


Wanheda

by AskaitAmara



Category: clexa - Fandom
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-03
Updated: 2016-05-03
Packaged: 2018-06-06 03:48:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 34,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6736963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AskaitAmara/pseuds/AskaitAmara
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This piece looks closely at the emotion and physical attraction between Clarke and Lexa (and sometimes Niylah) during episodes 301-307.  It's a Clexa story though, not a Niylah piece.  Because there is a generous amount of smut in this, Niylah is there for heat and because of course she would think of Clarke from time to time.  There is a lot of angst in this story as well.  It wasn't intended to be a fix it fic, but it is now simply because we all need some relief from theLoo writers and their torture porn approach to Clexa.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wanheda

WanHeda

Cages

Clark  
Enraged was not a strong enough word to describe Clarke’s state of mind. She was beyond enraged; she was homicidal. The heat that coursed through her veins shook her to her very core. She meant every word she said. They echoed and rang in her ears. You bitch; you wanted the commander of death, you got her. I’ll kill you.”

Clarke had spent the last three months focused entirely on hunting and gathering, nothing more. She wouldn’t, not for a singular second, allow her rage for Lexa to surface. She couldn’t. The intensity of it would have consumed her entire essence. If she opened the door, even the slightest, there would be nothing left. She would be obliterated by the memory of Lexa’s betrayal. So, she did what she had to do to stay ahead of the past. She shut down her emotions, just like Lexa taught her. When feelings arose, she fought them off by putting herself in the most dangerous situation possible, using adrenaline as a numbing agent. She hunted large game three times her weight and capable of causing instant death. The adrenaline of a deadly hunt was enough to keep most emotions at bay, but not all. As Clarke stood there enraged and encaged by the woman who betrayed her, she acknowledged her need to feel connected to another human being; it was the only emotion, not rooted in anger, she couldn’t hide from. She felt alone, which was the safest for her and everyone around her, but alone was a choice she had to make, not one she wanted to.

Allowing herself one brief instant to look back, Clarke consider Niylah and Prince Roan of Azgeda was or wan’t Ice Nation, she couldn’t tell. He was with their guards the day Niylah lied to him about Clarke’s whereabouts. Does this mean Niylah was in danger? The thought of her being harmed made Clarke feel physically ill. She couldn’t take the idea of another person suffering from a connection to her or her people. This was in this instant that something inside her broke. She literally felt like she had stepped outside of her body and stood beside herself. She assumed she was hallucinating from exhaustion and anger and didn’t care. She took advantage of the illusion and entertained the idea of her translucent self slipping through the bars of her prison cell, ascending the two flights of stairs she had just been dragged down, and pinning the lythe cat eyed Heda to the ground and delivering the first of a series of cuts. 

The thought of Lexa’s eyes pulled Clarke from her homicidal fantasy and made her shudder. She screamed at the top of her lungs hurling her body against the bars. She would not allow the way Lexa looked at her to soften her rage. She hurled her body at the bars again - a violent attempt to reinforce her will. She would not allow Lexa’s compassionate glance draw her back in. She took a third run at the bars, this time hurting her shoulder and possibly loosening a lower wrung. The final blow was too much, she slid to the floor in utter exhaustion. 

Clarke knew Lexa would not cause her harm. It was clear to her already that none of the guards were going to assault her or sell her to Ice Nation. She’d use this time to restore her strength. She closed her eyes and for one second let her mind return to thoughts of Niylah, a woman who wanted absolutely nothing from her yet made a dangerous move to protect her.

Lexa  
Lexa felt a mixture of rage and fear. Threatening to kill the commander warranted execution and her guards had heard Clarke’s words loud and clear. Killing Clarke was not something Lexa was willing to do. She needed her as an ally and she needed the Sky Peoples support. But, this was not politics as usual and Lexa knew it. Her feelings for Clarke were overwhelmingly real, yet she could not allow them to overshadow the coalitions potential to pave a way for peace. If only Clarke understood what the coalition could accomplish. Convincing Clarke to take a leadership role was going to be extremely difficult and Lexa knew this. Clarke considered the deal with Mount Weather to be an ultimate betrayal. Even though her mind told her Clarke would have made the same deal, had she been in the same shoes, Lexa's heart feared otherwise. She knew Clarke would have found a different way. Just like Clarke would have found a way to save the people of the village from the missile, had she not dissuaded her. A day didn’t go by when Lexa didn’t hear Clarke’s words echoing in her mind that they could have started a fire and forced an evacuation. The weight of tragic deaths that occurred that day because Lexa was married to a plan was accompanied by a twinge of nausea. She felt week. 

Lexa had spent the past three months trying to convince herself that she wasn’t as attracted to Clarke as she originally thought, but the second Prince Roan removed the hood and she saw Clarke’s crystalline blue orbs and gorgeous mouth she knew she was right back in the war room that day when she kissed her. It was then that she felt something inside her give. And now, here she stood with the flames of attraction consuming her; flames she thought she had extinguished that had now returned and were threatening to turn her to ash. 

Sleep would not come easily. She had never seen Clarke this angry and was genuinely afraid. It was true that she found a certain amount of comfort in the fact that Clarke was now within reach; but the comfort was blotted by an unrecognizable feeling. A feeling that kept her from being able to think straight or focus on the coalition.

Niylah  
Niylah groaned as she lifted the kettle from the flame. The Sky People’s healer had wrapped her ribs tight enough that she could walk, but lifting anything over a few pounds was difficult. She struggled but managed to pour the steaming water into a mug filled with healing herbs then stood there watching the steam rise for what seamed like an eternity. She knew she needed to drink the tea, but worried that it’s calming affect would make her vulnerable to another attack. What if she didn’t hear someone enter the shop? It was one of the few times she wished her father were home. She took note of the fact that she didn’t wish for a partner; that it was her father she thought of. 

It had never been in Niylah’s nature to wish for a partner. She’d convinced herself that she’d never meet anyone that she would want around for anything other than sexual pleasure/comfort. That was until she met Clarke. She thought back to the first time Clarke walked into the trading post. She remembered how she felt Clarke’s energy seconds before the curvaceous goddess actually appeared. Until that moment, she had doubted the Ice Nations Queens assertion that the Wanheda could absorb her victims’ powers. Meeting Clarke changed her mind. The second she looked into the Warrior of Death’s eyes she knew the woman before her was not someone who would kill for power. Wanheda was a label she had been given, that was all. Perhaps Clarke did gain some kind of energetic strength, but it was hard to tell what from. Maybe she had this power all along and it was invoked by circumstance?

Niylah made her way to her bed and slowly slipped in. With an almost empty mug in hand she struggled to pull the covers over her bruised body. Once settled, she breathed deeply and attempted to connect to any residual energy left behind by the woman who less than forty-eight hours earlier had made her come harder than anyone before. She smiled at the way she was able to bring Clarke to equal heights. She didn’t let her mind relive the disappointment of waking up alone, instead she committed to memory the raspy tambre of Clarke’s voice husking breathy messages of pleasure and encouragement.

As the herbs took hold Niylah felt her mind revisit a thought she had many times as a child – that she was a descendent of deity with powers unknown to humankind. She squeezed a few extra moments of lucidity before drifting off completely. Her dream began with the image of herself riding a golden jaguar, slipping into the Ice Queen’s encampment and rescuing Clarke.

 

Morning  
Lexa  
Lexa slipped from her bed hours before sunrise. She knew full well that trying to sleep, with Clarke so close, was a waste of energy. Up until a few hours ago, she was under a self induced delusion that she could simply have her men bring Clarke to her unharmed and that she and Clarke would talk through what happened and reunify in leading their people together, as if a betrayal had never happened. Up until a few hours ago she’d believed she could convince Clarke of her reasons/strategies and as soon as Clarke understood, the two would sway the coalition together. Up until a few hours ago, she was mildly successful fighting back her feelings for Clarke and could prevent the recollection of the softness of the blondes warm mouth and the enticing scent of her skin from running rampant in her psyche. But, now, recollections of every moment of intimacy between them flooded her senses. Seeing the woman of her desire embody such rage was a harsh reality, one that Lexa was forced to immediately accepted as truth. 

With a warrior spirit, Lexa recognized when a battle was lost and started planning her next bold move. She needed to find a way to reach through Clarke’s rage. She needed to carve a new pathway into Clarke’s heart. A heart, she reminded herself that was once pure and generous, beautiful and kind, open and welcoming.

A natural ability to slip in and out of places without being seen is a skill Lexa comes by with grace. It is her art form. She padded quietly and could be as silent as a church mouse, when need be. It had helped her escape many dangerous situations in her lifetime. Her strongest ability and most deceptive skill was the way she could hide in shadows. She set forth, knowing she would be able to get close enough to Clarke’s cell without others seeing. She dismissed the guards with a single glance and made it clear that they were not to make any noise on the way out. She approached slowly and was taken aback by what she saw. There was Clarke sleeping in a sitting position, fists balled together, white knuckles bulging, brow furrowed, blood dried and streaking. Lexa’s breath hitched and she almost drown in the realization that perhaps she was solely to blame for the rage that so clearly emanated from the woman before her. For the first time it occurred to her that Clarke had been strong enough to handle the mass executions, Fin’s death, his assassination of the villagers, but not Lexa’s betrayal.

Lexa thought back to her first battle. She had gone through everything Clarke went through as a leader, almost verbatim, but no one she trusted had betrayed her the way she betrayed Clarke. People were taken from her and tortured because of her love for them, but no one she trusted had ever intentionally caused her harm. This thought made her heart race and no matter how much she tried to calm herself, she couldn’t. Her heartbeat so hard and so fast that she was sure the sound of it was audible in the stone chamber; each contraction bouncing off the walls around her. She needed to leave and do so immediately. She checked the hall behind her then stole one last glance at Clarke. She felt frozen when she saw Clarke/Wanheda staring directly into her eyes. She lingered for a second, but then pushed through the paralysis and made her way back to her throne without being seen.

The next several hours involved Lexa putting herself back together. She accepted the fact that her cards were on the table with Clarke and that Wanheda would be able to use them however she liked. It was a fact she could do nothing other than accept. If only she would have stayed open and trusted Clarke. If only she could have refused to make a deal with Mount Weather. Had she done these things, she wouldn’t be here now, terrified, only meters from the woman she wanted as an ally and lover, yet unable to come up with a way to make this happen. She needed to think.

Clarke  
Clarke awoke the second Lexa slipped in. She kept her breath steady and her eyes closed. She did nothing to indicate her awareness of the Commanders arrival. Would Heda be bold enough to approach the bars, Clarke wondered. She planned for the possibility and imagined grabbing ahold of Lexa’s long tone arms, pulling them through, and forcing her face forward. She imagined staring deeply into her eyes and entangling her arms in such a way that the Commander couldn’t move. She imagined leaving one hand free to take Lexa’s blade from her thigh harness and torment her with it. She imagined cutting hatch marks up and down Heda's long neck, memorializing the lives of each innocent victim. She imagined slipping her strongest hand around Lexa’s throat, feeling the warm blood from the fresh wounds ooze between her fingers. She imagined the color draining from Lexa’s face and the sound of her heart beating. This confused her. Her heart rate should have slowed, not increased. Then she realized she was actually hearing Lexa’s heart beating - that is was her heart reverberating off the stones walls all around them and she could actually hear it. Clarke opened her eyes and saw Heda looking right at her. She felt paralyzed and could see Lexa was transfixed as well. But, as always, Lexa was the first to find the strength to break free and Clarke watched her disappear into the shadows. She launched to her feet and wanted to scream words of hate, but they wouldn’t come. Frustrated, she closed her eyes slowly and became aware of her own heart beating. It was rapid and lurid. She steadied herself and capitalized on the rare guard free moment to check the vulnerability of the loosened wrung. It was indeed loosened, but not enough to result in an escape, not yet.

It took nearly an hour before Clarke could free herself from the looping thoughts of Lexa’s visit. It was unlike a Queen to put herself in such a vulnerable position, but it was just like Lexa, especially when it came to Clarke. This was something Clarke had become acutely aware of during their time together. Lexa's vulnerability would work to her advantage.

Clarke understood that Lexa was both a woman and a warrior. She was attracted to the way Lexa was one at a time and occasionally both at once. The warrior in Lexa was genderless, powerful, and ruthless. The woman in her was different. The woman in her was capable of feeling incredible empathy. The woman in her felt fear. The woman in her felt desire. Clarke experienced first hand the way Lexa ran from fear with a childlike immaturity and embraced desire with Aphrodite-esc maturity. It drew her in completely. 

The clanging of buckets brought Clarke from her analysis. She looked up to see Lexa’s personal guards carrying buckets of steaming water, a vessel that could be used as a bathtub, fresh clothing, and tray of fresh fruit, water, and bread. In English the guard blurted, “The Commander would like to offer you these items as an apology for disturbing your rest.” 

Clarke nodded and waited until the guard opened the door wide enough before lunging - she wasn’t attempting an escape, she was testing waters. No weapons were drawn and the guard who restrained her used very little force, holding her only for the amount of time it took for the others to gently place Lexa’s offering inside the cell and leave. Afterwards, Clarke contemplated her power over Lexa and the situation she now found herself in.

Niylah  
Niylah awoke sore, but rested. The herbal remedy had helped her sleep through the night and she was grateful. The recipes handed down from her great grandmother never failed. Her sleep through was rejuvenating. It would be hours before her father would arrive and she knew there was meat in the smoker ready to be pulled. She dressed slowly and went out. As she unloaded, a dream from the night before attempted to surface. It was tenderly close to consciousness, but just beyond her reach. It teased then escaped her grasp. Her preoccupation with remembering her dream left her vulnerable to a sudden attack. Out of nowhere a member of the Queens Nation was upon her. He demanded she tell him everything she knew about Wanheda. This new perpetrator used intimidation more than his fists, but Niylah’s reaction was the same. She was going to fight to protect herself and hopefully stave off any additional harm to Clarke. 

As the attacker became more and more agitated, Niylah searched for a way out of the situation. The instant she received the first blow, she felt empowered rather than shocked. It was a blow that should have knocked her to the ground, but surprisingly it did not. Her perpetrator was equally surprised and during his split second of awe received a retaliation blow of a lifetime. Niylah had run a quick scan of her surroundings and spotted a massive meat tenderizer at the side of the smoker. Neither saw it coming. 

As the Ice Queen’s guard fell to his knees, Niylah considered hitting him again. She then thought better of it. She had never harmed someone before in such a fashion and wasn’t going to start now. Contemplation was the right move. During the moment it took her to decide what to do next, Indra arrived. Without words the two women fell into line. Indra motioned to two of her guards to come and take the attacker away. Niylah was relieved to hear him groan as he was lifted to his feet. She stared him down before they disappeared him. She believed he would not return.

Once inside the Trading Post, Indra ordered Niylah to sit then brought water and a bottle of alcohol she spotted on the counter. Niylah chose the water. Again the dream from the night before attempted to break through, this time leaving behind an image of a woman Niylah remembered from her youth. A woman who came by a few times a year and spent days at a time visiting with her mother. In that second, Niylah realized how much Indra was like her mothers mysterious friend. Because of this, and the unwavering support and kindness she’d always received from the TreeCru, Niylah patiently answered Indra’s questions, over and over again.

“So there’s nothing else you remember about the man that asked about Clarke?”

“I’m sorry, not that I can think of.”

“Tell me everything he said, word for word, once again. Don’t leave out a single detail”

“Miss Indra, I wish I knew more, but I don’t.”

“I know child, I’m sorry. I just need to be sure and repetition sometimes helps.”

Niylah was about to point out the fact that she’s a woman and not a child any longer when more of her dream broke though. “Your time has come, child. You’re your mother’s daughter. You’re ready.” The memory and the way it resounded in her head made her lose her balance. She reached out and steadied herself with the side of the table and caught a look of concern in Indra’s eyes. She answered before being asked, “I’m fine. I’m just shaken up, that’s all. Do you think Ice Nation will continue to come here? Am I safe?”

“I’m going to leave two of my men here until things settle down. They’ll keep you safe.” 

A few minutes later Niylah found herself bidding farewell to Indra and the rest of her crew. As one guard spoke to another, Niylah detected a slight lilt in his cadence. It reminded her of something about the bounty hunter who had come for Clarke; something she hadn’t thought to share with Indra, until now. It was her first impression of him. He spoke differently from the Ice Nation men she’d met before. He had a slight accent and sounded similar to the Azgeda people her father traded with. 

Niylah smiled when Indra said, “Thank you, child,” and hastily led her men away. She stood there until Indra disappeared then looked in the direction of Ice Nation. Her mind immediately turned to Clarke. She wished, more than anything, to have the chance to see her again. She knew in her bones that Clarke was still alive. She could feel it.

Grounding

Clarke  
Clarke stared at the guards back for a good ten minutes while contemplating Lexa’s offerings. Not once did they move. They simply stood tall, backs straight, silent, having no communication with one another. They were like statues of protection. They were statues, she thought, following Lexa’s order to provide Wanheda with as much privacy as they possibly could while still doing their jobs. 

Thinking like a soldier, Clarke scanned the guards purview, making sure to see what they saw and nothing more. In front of each guard was a large empty room with a door leading to a stairwell. There were no mirrors, no objects to use as weapons, no windows, one hanging air-duct running along an outside wall, and a small wire-duct for electrical. 

The ceiling was covered with removable tiles and a grid system. The grid looked sturdy enough for Clarke to suspend from and use the weight of her body to gather momentum and turn feet into fists. Or she could swing from the grid and create enough thrust to kick in a panel and search for a way out. This was not a time for escape, however. It was a time to examine Lexa’s offerings more closely.

If completely honest with herself, Clarke knew she wanted to bathe, eat, and change clothes. It was an opportunity to meet a base and primal need and in this very instant she needed something and that something could be anything. Whatever might help her get grounded enough to feel an emotion other than rage. 

Clarke knew there was no way the Commander would poison her. She was capable of poisoning an enemy, but not her. The jury was out as to whether Wanheda was the Commanders enemy, however. The instant this thought presented, Clarke shut it down. She knew the answer. Heda did not consider Wanheda an enemy and Lexa did not consider Clarke one either. Lexa would consider Wanheda a crucial ally in the coalition, this was a given. The fact that she offered Clarke items that would provide a modicum of pleasure meant the woman in her still wanted something from Clarke and Clarke understood this. 

The clothing Lexa offered reinforced Clarke’s belief that she was offering comfort rather than trickery. The garments were fit for both a warrior and a queen. They were protective in nature, strong enough to stop and slow a blade. At the same time, they were attractive and form fitting. Clothing that would allow for movement and highlight the physical beauty of a woman’s body, especially a woman as curvaceous as the Queen of Death.

Clarke ran her fingertips along the seam lines of each garment for several minutes. The fabric dashed put her in a trance. She traced every line gently, methodically, and contemplatively. She knew Lexa had picked each item personally and her id took pleasure in this bit of psychic knowledge. 

Clarke’s rage began to soften. She poured her first mug of water and allowed herself a moment to consider Lexa’s attachment to the coalition. She thought back to their time together in the War Room and remembered feeling drawn to Lexa’s idea that the coalition could save lives. All Clarke wanted back then was to save lives. And even though only three months had passed, she was a much older woman now. Then, she would have looked right past the possibility that Lexa was willing to save other soldiers lives if it meant she could rule over them. Lexa was a commander who in her own words, “was born to it.” She was who she was.

With the water and food nearly gone, Clarke stared at the guards one last time before stripping down to underwear and a bra. She would not remove them, but she would enjoy the bath-just the same. She poured steaming buckets into the larger vessel and smiled at the fact that the temperature felt just right. The heat would be good for her aching muscles. She sighed knowing Lexa would see the acceptance of her offerings a small victory. Then she realized; there is power in letting Lexa think what she wanted. Clarke would need to do a lot of self examination to stay ahead of the commander’s brilliant mind. She would need to come up with a plan that led Lexa to believe one thing when in reality something entirely different was happening.

The water felt amazing on her body. She reached for the washcloth, dipped it under then wrung it dry. The sound of the excess fluid falling into the basin reminded her of Niylah. Instead of fighting the memory, she simply let it in. She made a vow, right then and there, that she was not going to fight every single thought, feeling, and emotion that arose in captivity. It took too much energy and she needed her strength for other things. 

Clarke escaped her cell and the situation she found herself in with Lexa by revisiting her time with Niylah. She recalled her one time lovers long lean fingers wrapped around a similar washcloth. She focused on the burgeoning sensations the memory conjured and summoned up the way Niylah touched her so carefully, so gently, so openly. She sighed and for the first time since her captivity, relaxed. The fact that the last time she felt such comfort was in Niylah’s arms didn’t escape her. 

Clarke had sensed early on that Niylah was someone she could trust. Niylah never took advantage and always insisted she owed Clarke more than the Posts usual processing share. Clarke remembered wanting to talk to Niylah in those early days about anything other than wild game, but couldn’t. Her rage for Lexa had bled into every exchange she had with anyone, two legged or four. It was why she kept to herself all those months in the woods and trusted no one. It wasn’t until that day when the bounty hunter came that Clarke was able to open up. It was then that she knew for certain Niylah was one of the “good guys” her mother made her promise to remember. 

Lexa  
Lexa was pleased to hear Clarke had accepted her offering. She had spent the morning preparing for every scenario she could think of that might occur over the next several days, not just with Clarke but other coalition leaders as well. She simply couldn’t take any more emotional upset. Her nerves were getting the better of her. A few hours earlier, a team of guards arrived from the field with word that the Ice Queen knew Wanheda was at the Capital and was furious to learn the Queen of Death was under Lexa’s protection. Plus, there was the matter of Prince Roan. His mother was extremely unpredictable when it came to her son; their relationship was beyond tumultuous, it was downright volatile. Lexa knew this going into an arrangement with him, but she was willing to do anything to bring Clarke home safely. The prince was one of the best trackers in the land and she exploited his hunger for acceptance to get what she wanted most in this world, Clarke. There would be a price to be paid for her actions and she knew the Ice Queen would be the one to collect. It was only a matter of time.

Lexa began to feel overwhelmingly tired. She hadn’t slept, nor had she eaten. If only she could stop thinking of Clarke long enough to do either. She considered taking a livener, but then thought better of it. There was time now for sleep and in battle one must seize every opportunity. She sent the guards to the other side of her door and loosened her armor. It felt good to release the necessary constriction, but it reminded her of the first time she felt physically attracted to Clarke. It was right after being attacked by the gorilla. Clarke had made a sling for her wounded arm and was tying it over her shoulder when something inside her stirred. Something she’d felt for Costia years early. Something she missed terribly and promised herself to never act upon again. 

Memories of Clarke pushed the commander over the edge. She tore at the rest of her armor, removing each piece forcefully. Once stripped down to nothing, literally nothing, she reverently placed her blade on the stand next to the bed and gracefully slipped beneath the covers. Savoring the cool softness of the fabric on her skin, she calmed herself, stretched her entire body. She focused on her breath. She needed to ground. She could not lead the coalition with emotions running rampant. 

Weariness rule over Lexa's psyhche far too often over the past three months. She’d developed a trick that sometimes helped, but it was trickery as dangerous as it was helpful. She allowed herself one and only one thought of Clarke before emptying her mind completely. It was a sacred thought she had expounded upon over time. She relaxed her entire body, prepared for release, and opened herself to a consecrated fantasy in which she provided an elaborate answer to Clarke’s question, “Don’t we deserve better than just surviving?” In imagination realm, Lexa spelled out all the ways in which they did deserve better and broke it down to a list of aspects--love, kindness, passion, compassion, family, safety, and freedom. She then shared a secret she’d never told anyone and confessed to Clarke that she didn’t want to be Heda any longer. The confession always ended with Lexa reaching out and kissing the blonde tenderly. The kiss was never fantastical. It was based in reality and played out in her minds-eye the exact same way it happened in real life. It was a kiss she found to be utterly perfect, tender and brimming with strength and potential. 

Lexa’s physical reaction to her fantasy was always the same. It charged through her nervous system like a knight in battle, electrifying every emotion she had ever denied herself for the Sky People's Queen. She always stopped her thought right after the kiss. She was keenly aware that there was more to the story, but she simply couldn’t continue. She hadn’t the strength or the ability to be any more vulnerable than she already was and open herself to additional desires.

Niylah  
Niylah’s father arrived right on time. He completely dismissed the fact that the Post had been ransacked and the site of his daughter on a ladder going through his personal belongings. These violations were gone from his mind the instant he saw his daughters face. It was swollen and bruised--barely recognizable. He could see that her ribcage was wrapped and that her arm was marred with a terrible gash. Ni he gasped rushing to her side, helping her down each wrung, “What happened?”

The tenderness of her father’s voice brought Niylah to tears. Until that moment she had considered telling him a lie. She even practiced it just in case she found the courage. As much as she wanted to save him from the knowledge that his daughter was involved in an altercation between Grounders and Ice Nation or that her wounds were retaliation for helping Wanheda, she just couldn’t. 

Niylah sat by the fire and patiently answered question after question. The only aspect she omitted was her sexual encounter with Clarke. She did, however, discuss her feelings for the Sky Queens Commander in a way that led him to believe they had something more than just a business exchange. It’s what helped him understand why she didn’t hand Wanheda over to the bounty hunter right then and there.

By the end of their conversation, Niylah’s father, who always held the same amount of gratitude as his daughter toward Clarke for ending the reaping, was calm and collected, but afraid. His dedication to family had multiplied tenfold after the Mountain stole his spouse. She was a woman he had loved dearly. He supplied the warriors of his village with the means to search for his wife and the others, who were taken, but he was not a man of warrior blood and when it came to rescuing his spouse and protecting his family, he was ashamed of the fact he couldn’t fight. His powers were in negotiation and understanding supply and demand, so he did the best he could with what he had to give. He was a businessman and considered by many to be one of the most ethical in the nation. All armies traded with him.

Niylah’s father took comfort in the fact that the guards (who in order to give the family time to process remained free from view when he first arrived) were posted like centuries at the front door. He’d had a few dealings with Sky People and respected them. The alliance with the Grounders was strong. All of this eased his fear. Sky People and Grounders could protect his daughter in ways he could not.

Around dinnertime, Niylahs’ father prepared a meal for them to eat. As he did, he noticed a large amount of cured game in their personal storage and asked if it was the panther Clarke brought in. Niylah nodded and suggested he donate it to the families of the victims of the Mountain. “Clarke would want this,” she whispered. Both she and her father detected the softness in her tone. She wasn’t ashamed or afraid to tell him about her sexual encounter with the Sky Peoples Commander, she just wanted to hold what they had sacred for as long as she could. 

Niylah’s father nodded and said, “I’ll set out first light.”

The two sat in silence near the fire for hours after they ate. Both were lost in thought. There was a comfort in the quiet and it was a comfort so healing it gave Niylah the courage to say, “Dad, I know you saw me going though your things earlier. I’d like to explain my actions, if you don’t mind?”

Niylah’s father offered a tender glance. He appreciated his daughter’s willingness to openly discuss what has always been off limits. “Please do,” he encouraged.

After grounding herself with a long slow inhale, Niylah quietly asked, “Do you remember Mom’s friend? The one who visited a lot when I was young? The woman with feather dreads and all the maps and symbols inked into her skin?”

Niylah’s father sighed. He knew this day would one day come. He looked at his daughter and saw nothing but strength. She could handle what he was about to say. She was quick witted and had a brilliant of mind. In fact, he’d never met anyone smarter. She could connect to all kinds of people and always learned to speak a stranger’s language. She was athletic, agile, and moved like a panther—just like her mother. She possessed her mother’s will as well. There was nothing he could do now but answer her question and be honest. “Yes,” he whispered.

“Was she TreeCru?”

“She lived with them, yes, and was accepted as such, but she was not a descendent of their blood.”

“Do you know where she was from or who her people were?”

“Yes,” he whispered.

“Dad, please tell me everything you know about her and the relationship she had with mom.”

His mind traveled back to the night he promised his wife that when the day came and their daughter asked, if she weren’t there, that he’d speak truth. He closed his eyes, drew strength from the memory of his beloved, and said, “She is from a tribe that has intentionally hidden and assimilated over the years. She and your mother were blood relatives.”

Niylah was taken aback, but only for a second. What followed was relief. She finally had confirmation for something she’d always suspected. She really was a descendent of deity. She comes from a lineage of women who walk between worlds. A sect only whispered about, never discussed openly. She has of a rare bloodline that can access other realms simply by knowing the correct words to say and ingredients to combine. She was about to speak when her father lifted himself wearily, walked to his personal area, climbed the ladder, pushed aside a panel she had no idea existed, and retrieved a flaming red leather bound book. 

Niylah hadn’t seen it since she was a child. Even then she’d seen it only once. It was right after she barged in on her mother and her mother’s mysterious friend. They attempted to hide it, but she saw it before they did. She’d spent months after in secret trying to find it, but never could. Then one day she simply forgot about it. It was as if the idea of it had vanished from her mind. But, now she remembered.

Niylah rose to her feet slowly and accepted the gift. The second it touched her hands she felt what she could only describe as a thousand butterfly wings lightly touching the tips of her fingers and palms of her hand.

“Please be careful dear girl. I love you. Your mother loved you. She wanted to be the one to share this with you. If you ever have questions or need anything, please know that I am here.” The fear in his eyes was obvious as he uttered each word. He then turned away slowly, leaving Niylah with her book and emotions, and went to the kitchen to prepare Clarke’s meat for transport.

Longing

Clarke  
Clarke took a second to process the events of the past week. She had been moved to nicer quarters, had no more bars or guards within arms reach, and was being treated with respect by a few of Lexa’s people. Failing to follow through with Prince Roans offer was a standout moment as well. She tried to kill Heda, but couldn’t find her in Lexa’s eyes. The second Lexa looked at her the way she did; correction, the way she always did, the rage inside her shattered and she was right back where she started. Lexa’s look of longing accompanied with what sounded like a genuine apology and invitation to safely leave the Capital pushed all the right buttons. Suddenly, Clarke felt more fearful than rageful. She told herself she was afraid for her people, but knew there was more. She was unwilling to leave SkaiCru fate to Heda and she did not want to leave Lexa. Keeping an enemy close was a smart strategy; the key was figuring out whether Lexa was an enemy or an ally. When she dropped to her knees and pledged fealty, Clarke felt the scale tip and had her answer. She reached for Lexa's hand and supported her to her feet like a King would a Queen.

Lexa  
Lexa turned to leave. Bowing before Clarke and swearing fealty was something she knew she wanted to do yet it opened her up to a type of vulnerability she hadn’t any idea how to process. She was literally in uncharted emotional territory. 

“Wait,” she heard Clark whisper. 

Lexa met the request and slowly turned. Her breath hitched as Clarke confidently stepped into her personal space. This was exactly what she wanted and she knew her eyes showed every emotion her heart could no longer hide. She looked deeply into Clarke’s crystalline blue eyes and cherished the way they, like her own, they revealed inner truths. 

The tenderness and throaty desire she heard in Clarke’s voice awoke every molecule in her being-from flesh to essence. Her heart raced. In that instant she knew she’d fallen deeper. She felt her knees grow week as Clarke closed the gap between them entirely. Melting into the softness of the blonde’s hand as it gently palmed the side of her face was the easiest thing she’d done in her entire lifetime. She simply let go and surrendered to the sensation. 

The second Lexa felt Clarke’s lips on her own, she knew she was done. There was nothing in this life that meant more to her. Nothing. Not even long-term strategies to rule the coalition, for which she’d been groomed since birth. 

Honey. Lexa swore she tasted honey on Clarke’s lips. It reminded her of their first kiss. She tasted the sweet nectar back then too. They’d been through so much since then. So much. For one split second she felt afraid. Losing Clarke was nearly impossible for her to survive and that was before their attraction was fully realized. How would she feel if she lost her again, especially if this was the moment their mutual desire for each other was confirmed in earnest?

Lexa stopped her thought. Now wasn’t the time for fear. Now was a time for gratification. She had a hunger that needed to be satiated and craved more of Clarke’s sweetness. She lightly ran her tongue along the underside of the blonde’s bottom lip. Her heart nearly leapt out of her chest when Clarke responded with a throaty moan. She sought an invitation to taste other areas of Clarke’s gorgeous mouth and used the tip of her tongue to seductively seek permission. The second it was granted, she explored every inch of Clarke’s warm soft entrance, memorizing each sensation; paying close attention to the heat growing between their bodies and the urgency of Clarke’s hands and mouth. 

Liquid lightening coursed though Lexa’s veins as her soon to be lover walked them backward toward the bed. It occurred to her that she was being unusually submissive; she truly wanted to give to Clarke whatever Clarke desired. If in this moment Clarke wanted to dominate, Lexa would let her. 

Clarke’s kisses were becoming more and more assertive and Lexa’s id snapped into gear. She hastily began to remove her armor. Clarke assisted then turned toward her own. Within seconds they were both naked, fully exposed, and starving with need. 

Seeing Clarke stripped of all her protective clothing not only heightened Lexa’s sexual longings, it gratified her mind. In that moment, neither she nor Clarke held respective titles; everything was base and primal. They were two women who desired the company and affection of the other. The blonde’s fantastic curves, full breasts, and strong muscular frame captivated Lexa. In fantasy, Lexa had examined every inch of Clarke’s warrioress figure, time and time again, and was pleased to find that her mind’s-eye had sold her short. Clarke had the body of a Goddess and no conjured image could paint a picture as magnificent as the real thing.

As Clarke used force to disappear the remaining final step between them and the bed, Lexa acquiessed. The first trickle of wetness seeped from her body as Clarke’s mouth broke free to traveling down the side of her neck then take station at her breast. She heard herself, as if from above, cry out in pleasure as Clarke suckled one nipple at a time, repeating the action twice more before moving into a prayer like position between her long lean thighs then gently, but assertively, lifting one over her shoulder and running her fingers up and down its length paying close attention to the muscular definition before kissing a trail up the inside of her thigh, exploiting every sensitivity. 

Being prepared for a moment was something Lexa was particularly good at. This type of moment, however, was not something she knew how to prepare for. The sensation of Clarke taking control and offering pleasure stunned her. She took a deep breath and tried to relax knowing within seconds Clarke’s hot wet mouth would swallow her whole. As one might expect, Clarke did not disappoint. 

The first swipe of Clarke’s tongue caused every nerve in Lexa’s already swollen clit to ignite. Her core shot off the bed as a mixture of blood and electricity charged to the most sensitive part of her body. She tried to ignored the needling sensations, but couldn’t. It was shockingly painful. Months of unrequited desire and longing were finally having their say, terrorizing her nervous system, and overwhelming her senses. 

Lexa was beyond grateful to realize Clarke sensed her state and provided a moment to acclimate. She breathed deeply whilst Clarke raked her teeth over her hipbone then placed a hand over her flat muscular stomach and gently eased her bottom back onto the bed. She then administered long slow series of tender strokes by reaching up to the side of Lexa’s face, cupping it as she’d done earlier and firmly raking her fingers over Lexa’s throat, breast, stomach and pelvic area. It was an act of grounding, not just the body, but also the energy within. Clarke did this twice more before revisiting Lexa’s swollen nub. Instead of moving right in with her veracious appetite, like she had before, she placed her palm firmly over Lexa’s sex, giving her body a chance to adjust to the sensation of touch. She increased the pressure incrementally whilst moving her palm in a circular pattern. By the time she brought her mouth back to Lexa’s throbbing cunt, she was ready; ready to take everything Clarke offered, ready to be devoured. 

Each sensation, each ministration; from the way Clarke alternated between lightly licking the most sensitive peak to assertively gumming it then suckling it hard for long periods of time before releasing was captivating. Lexa yielded openly to Clark’s every movement, moaning uncontrollably as her lover slid long fingers through slippery folds, spreading wetness everywhere, preparing for every possibility. 

Lexa’s orgasm started far more quickly then she’d expected. She wanted to delay, but couldn’t stop herself from coming. She tried deep breathing, but the sound of her own ragged gasps and Clarke’s throaty moans only enhanced what was clearly happening. She was coming undone. She screamed so loud she feared her guards would come to the rescue. Shoving thought aside. Lexa focused on the way Clarke prolonged her release by stilling herself during the first lament then slowing her attentions and coaxing a refrain of spasms and tremors with small calculated laps and suckles. She loved the way Clarke knew exactly when to release her pulsing clit from her mouth. She loved that she did so with grace, causing only the slightest convulsion, then assertively moved their bodies in such a way that the end outcome was the two warrioresses sitting face-to-face, Clarke below, Lexa above. Each had clear access to the other’s eyes, necks, breasts, and openings.

Lexa seized the opportunity to look deeply into Clarke’s eyes. Her orgasm had weakened her, but she had so much more to give. She kissed the blonde Goddess gently before sliding her hand toward her sex. A throaty growl filled her ears as Clarke quickly halted her descent by grabbing hold of her wrist and holding it with surprising force. Lexa had only a millisecond to consider whether Clarke was open to touch before being distracted by the sensation of the curvaceous blonde entering her. Instantly and instinctively, she ground down, slipping her hand free from Clarke’s tight grasp and wrapping both arms around her curvaceous lover, digging her nails in enough to communicate consent and power. 

Clarke’s thrusting was perfect, just the right amount of penetration and the perfect amount of force. Lexa’s eyes slammed shut and head rolled back with the arrival of the second and third finger. She spread her legs wider eliciting deeper penetration. She undulated and matched every thrust; resuming eye contact the second Clarke rasped her name.

Timing was truly Clarke’s thing because the way she moved combined with when she moved literally caused Lexa’s body to shutter uncontrollably. She prepared for another full on release, one that ultimately shook her from head to toe. As she came, her thighs involuntarily straightened and she ended up sitting on her knees, winding up in the same position she was during her fealty vow. She pressed the side of Clarke’s face to her breast and knelt there motionless, feeling a sensation she could only describe as peace; something she rarely, if ever, felt. 

Clarke  
Clarke listened to the sound of Lexa’s heart pounding wildly. She reciprocated her lithe lover’s firm embrace and enjoyed the closeness. She contemplated the sex they just had and how it began and ended with Lexa’s vow. Sex with Lexa was not part of her plan. In fact, she had promised herself she would not reunite with Lexa romantically unless she was absolutely sure she could trust her again, and even then she wasn’t sure an intimate relationship was good idea. Over the past six months, she’d seen both sides of Lexa and knew she could only fully love one.

Clarke’s trust would need to be earned with actions. Words were never going to be enough. She believe this right up until the moment Lexa dropped to her knees and swore fealty. Lexa’s vow was so profound and felt so sincere that Clarke felt her stance weaken. Never in her lifetime would she have imagined Lexa so vulnerable, so open. It was a euphoric aphrodisiac that touched her deeply. 

Now here she was entangled in arms and legs, the delicate earthy taste of Lexa’s orgasm on her tongue, hands, thighs, and face, while sweat pooled and cooled at the base of her neck; her face pressed against her lovers breast, holding her up while steadying herself, knees bent, emotions surfacing, remembering the sincerity of Lexa’s promise to never again betray her again.

Clarke wasn’t ready for Lexa to pull away and ease their bodies down onto the bed with the level of seductive prowess with which she presented. Her head started swimming. She was grateful Lexa had moved their bodies in such a way that each were lying on their sides, face-to-face, however. She wasn’t sure she could give of herself the way Lexa just had and was glad she wasn’t underneath her trying to make sense of how an impulsive decision asking her to stay after an emotional fealty vow led to this. 

Clarke felt vulnerable and wasn’t sure her emotional state was strong enough to be so open. Three months in the woods helped her heal some but not fully. She was about to say something when Lexa distracted her by running her fingertips along the curve of her thigh, over her hipbone, across her belly then up the side of her arm before weaving her long lean fingers through golden tresses, pushing back a thick handful of locks exposing tender portions of a neck and ear as she did. Her breath hitched when Lexa moved in and kissed the newly uncovered porcelain-like flesh. The heat of Lexa’s breath on her skin incited Clarke to involuntary shudder. She welcomed the brown haired beauties soft tender kisses and exploratory tongue. She felt blood rush to her cheeks when she heard Lexa whisper, “You have the most beautiful body of anyone I’ve ever known, Clarke Cum SkaiCrew.” She panicked when Lexa moved stealthily toward the curve of her hip and began kissing it gently. She stiffened when Lexa attempted to ease her onto her back. She fought back a tear when she whispered, “Are you okay?”

Clarke nodded, but didn’t elaborate. She knew she didn’t want to give all of herself just yet, but wasn’t ready to explain why. Letting Lexa in again scared her. She needed to keep at least one part of herself to herself until she was truly sure Lexa meant what she said in her vows. Time would tell and for right now the passion that they shared moments earlier needed to be enough. Tomorrow might be different, but in this instant, she had given everything she could.

Clarke appreciated the way Lexa instinctively understood the inner workings of her mind. A sense of relief surged through her when she heard Lexa compassionately rasp, “It’s okay, Clarke. Take as much time as you need.”

Niylah (Three Days after Clarke was Captured)  
It had been upwards of 90 hours since Niylah did anything other than read, sleep, or eat. She was grateful to her father for insisting she spend time away from the shop to heal. She ached to be alone with her thoughts and her mother’s journal. She also needed time to process something she’d overheard a guard say. “Wanheda was captured by the Commander, not the Ice Queen. She’s being held at the Capital. Prince Roan is there as well. 

The second Niylah heard the words, she wanted to scream. She brashly asked the guard to repeat himself. Her heart leaped into her throat as he confirmed. A squeal inside her tried to escape, but she captured it before it could reach the ears of another. As elated as she was to hear Clarke was alive, it was impossible to rejoice in earnest. The idea of her one time lover being held captive tore at her soul. One night of intimacy confirmed what she already knew; Clarke could not be caged. She was too primal (bordering on feral) to allow such a thing to happen. Surely, she would escape. No one could hold Wanheda in captivity. 

Niylah’s guts wrenched imagining what Clarke might be going though. She wished she could help her and searched her mother’s pages for something that might be of use. She went over and over in her mind everything she knew about Clarke and how it could apply to her mother’s lessons and the power hidden in their bloodline.

It was impossible to run a Trading Post and not hear bits and pieces of rumor and innuendo. By the time Niylah had met the Sky People’s Commander, she had already heard countless tales of how she and Heda had formed an alliance; an alliance her army questioned at every turn. Sky People were responsible for the Ring of Fire after all. 

Rumor also had it that a number of Heda’s top ranked officials believed she was being misled and had planned to imprison her during the great battle. Once she was captive, they were set to overrule her orders and obliterate Mountain and Sky People-using Sky People technology and brute force. But, when the actual battle took place, Lexa’s men didn’t have to imprison her, for it was she who betrayed the Sky People and broke the alliance. She played it off as if it were her plan from the start. Her cunningness restored their trust.

No one Niylah traded with seemed to question Heda’s decisions. How could they? She saved their people, time and time again, most recently from the bleeding tanks. People did have questions about Wanheda, however. What would become of her? Would she return to the Sky People and seek revenge on Grounders? Would she go after their Commander?

The Ice Queen wasn’t the only person to believe Wanheda could absorb the powers of every person, being, or animal whose life she stole. People of all walks of life believed this to be true. What fed the fear was the fact that Wanheda had been a Commander in the past and one with weaponry and the ruthlessness it takes to invoke mass casualty. If she possessed the power to annihilate countless numbers of people before becoming Wanheda, what was next? Where would she set her sites? These thoughts were accompanied by another Niylah found fascinating. As much as people feared Wanheda, they had compassion for her; it was like a sense of loyalty. And why wouldn’t they? She single handedly ended the reaping. 

By the time Niylah actually met Wanheda, she had developed a certain amount of awe and compassion for her as well. Her powers were obvious the instant she walked through the door. Niylah’s first thoughts were 1) the Commander met her match and 2) it was too bad the alliance was broken. The following thoughts went like this: Wanheda is clearly an amazing hunter; Wanheda is obviously an incredibly intelligent woman, by Gods she’s beautiful; she seems like she’s in a lot of emotional pain right now; by Gods she has an amazing voice; she has no idea I know her true identity; and she thinks I don’t see her look at me, but I do.

The second time, Niylah met Wanheda she decided there was no way she was a ruthless woman before coming to this planet. Her kills were too clean. None of the animals she brought for curing suffered. None. It was obvious by state of their carcass. They bled out instantly. The second visit was far too short, however. Niylah had wanted more time with Wanheda, but she was in and out like a flash. Something must have spooked her because just like that she was gone and Niylah lost the chance analyze the sadness hovering around the warrior woman.

At some point between the first and second visit, Niylah realized she couldn’t accept the idea that the woman she met was one hundred percent Wanheda. There was something more going on. She was Clarke, leader of the Sky People, she was Wanheda, Queen of Death, and she was a woman who seemed to be going through something painful. To some, the three might be one in the same, but not to her. She saw things differently and wanted to know all aspects of the great hunter woman. She wanted to know Clarke, where she’d come from, and how she defeated the Mountain. She wanted to ask Wanheda questions that could help her better understand her mother’s death. And, she wanted to know the woman inside; the woman who was guarded yet so clearly seeking some form of contact.

The second Niylah realized she was once again lost in memories of Clarke; she became frustrated. Distraction like this had happened a lot over the past three days. Thoughts of her one time lover were starting to consume her. She sighed loudly, picked up her journal and tried again to read. The words wouldn’t sink in. There was no use. Thoughts of Clarke had appeared and weren’t leaving until they had their due. She surrendered to their demand, stretched her long lean legs toward the fire, arched her back, lifted her heart to the sky, and leaned back into the chair. She settled in and let go, steadying her breath like her mother’s book taught, formed a trancelike drumbeat inside her and drifted off. 

Niylah utilized skills she intrinsically possessed and traveled back in time to relive memories of Clarke. The recollection she started with was the afternoon Clarke appeared right after her father left for a nearby village. She visualized the size of the panther and thought about how dangerous it was to kill such an animal. Then a thought about the bounty hunter appeared. She quickly moved past it to the moment he left and the one and only night she spent with Clarke.

The sex was amazing. In the hollow of her bone, Niylah knew Clarke would concur. They both came and they both came hard. Once they even came together. It wasn’t just sympathetic shuddering either; it was a full on release. Clarke was inside Niylah, moving to a rhythm uniquely her own, one that completely enthralled Niylah’s id. She was utterly lost in Clarke’s push and pull tempo and was quickly approaching a state of sheer unraveling. The second Clarke husked, “Come for me,” she did and delighted in the fact that Clarke never let go. She simply moved her entire body up Niylah’s lithe frame, tasting a trail throaty pleasure up her stomach, suckling a nipple before bringing their mouths together for a kiss that was very much like their first. Clarke then used her strong muscular thighs to force Niylah’s wider and ground out the rhythmic pattern mirroring the one from before. She kissed Niylah harder and deeper, prolonging the release, teasing out spasms after spasm, licking the inside of her upper lip, convulsing with each tremor her ministrations induced. 

Niylah knew Clarke’s reaction was an invitation to reach down and place her hand over the curvaceous beauties throbbing wet sex. She was pleased at the way Clarke’s welcomed her and pressed her erect warrior’s nub forward. She committed to memory the sensation of both her outer ring and protruding center. With ease and grace she slid her fingertips around the circular moat before worshiping the tip. The second she did, Clarke’s hips bucked violently. She responded by running the pads of her fingertips through Clarke’s slippery folds; folds less than an hour earlier she had suckled and lapped clean of Clarke’s first orgasm of the evening. Clarke bucked again and Niylah understood the need; she would not tease, she would succumb. With self-assuredness, she entered the Sky Goddess and relished in the sound of a full on animalistic roar. 

Clarke instantly drove her core into Niylahs, forcing deeper penetration. With absolute precision their bodies collided then parted only enough to allow a deeper level of emotional and physical penetration. This happened over and over and over again. Clarke’s free arm grasping the back of Niylah’s neck, hip bones digging in, her other hand assertively cupping Niylah’s sex, holding tightly, prolonging orgasm with each movement.

Niylah, matched Clarke’s unabashed thrusts and used her long lean fingers to move deeper into Clarke’s body before moving her thumb back to Clarke’s swollen clit. Fingers continued to drive in and out, in and halfway out, deeper in again, using forearm strength to spread her fingers wide, then back to her lovers clit, working circles, enticing deeper thrusts accompanied by louder throaty affirmations of consent. Niylahs’ ears were fill with sounds so guttural and animalistic she wondered if people outside could hear. She continued, in and out, in and out and in out again; deeper, faster, halfway out, knuckle deep, halfway out again; more sounds of approval filling her ears, chemical reactions, the taste of Clarke’s skin changing, growing saltier, earthier, her pulse throbbing again her skin, fluttering under her tongue, hips thrusting fast and furious, Clarke’s tempo rising, her song, her desire, accelerando, crescendo, her soul. 

Clarke was coming undone. Niylah knew this and moved her thumb purposefully in a way that would simultaneously unravel her while putting her back together again. With one arm wrapped tightly around her lovers lower back, nails dug in deep, and her other hand between them twisting and curled fingers one last time, she turned just enough to change the placement of her knuckles against Clarke’s opening, then absorbed the crushing weight of each convulsion as she delivered her final thrust. The way Clarke bucked and screamed inundated her senses in earnest. It caused both a physical and emotional reaction. The two moaned in unison, neither held back, there were harmonies abound.

With ragged breath and fingers still curled inside, Niylah memorized everything about the moment. She couldn’t move, nor did she want to. She was held in place by Clarke’s sweat drenched heat riddled body, weight still crushing down, but not so much that it hurt. Just enough to know that her lover was not afraid to tap into her power and embody desire. 

Niylah focused on the strength of Clarke’s forearm still snug between their bodies. She memorized the tautness of the warrior’s muscular limb and marveled in the way she ever so gently removed her hand from her swollen cunt. She immediately missed the closeness, but knew it was time. It was clear that neither had the strength to continue. 

Niylah did what she had to and slowly removed her own hand from between them. Something about the moment made her acutely aware of the fact that she was still wearing the Sky Peoples wristband Clarke asked about. She moved her body in a way that encouraged Clarke to release her hold. Once sitting, she moved the candles so that eye contact was possible then reverently removed the bracelet and gently placed it in Clarke’s hand. “No,” Clarke rasped, “keep it.” She assertively handed it back to her lover then leaned forward for another kiss. It felt to Niylah that the kiss Clarke offered was filled with a new kind of energy. One they hadn’t shared yet. She couldn’t name then, but reciprocated the sensation of it. Looking back now, she’d have to guess it was the kind of energy that healed emotional wounds.

The sound of her father returning from work yanked Niylah from her reverie. It took her a second to get back into her body, something that never happened before. She had always been someone who could travel to the imagination realm, but did so in her mind, never in spirit. She recognized the difference and the split. She breathed a sigh of relief when she felt the reunification.

Niylah wasn’t surprised to discover that her body had experienced orgasmic pleasure all over again; she was wet and sated. What she found alarming was the ringing in her ears. It reverberated echoes of Clarke’s voice. She could also smell Clarke’s scent. It was everywhere. On her mouth, her hands, her neck, in her hair. She could even taste Clarke on her tongue. In addition, her body ached. There was a needle like soreness in her throat, one she recognized from screaming out in pleasure. She was purely astounded. She felt exactly the way she did that night with Clarke. Satiated, horse, stomach muscles and thighs sore, hand and arms fatigued from fucking, cunt tingling and swollen from consumption. Never before had she ever brought back such tangible sensations from a trip to the imagination realm. Never. 

As Niylah’s father approached, she took one last second to process a final lingering emotion. Longing. The same sense of longing she felt waking up alone the morning after her encounter with Clarke. She knew Clarke was not ready to entangle herself in anything, let alone anything emotional, but the way Clarke had opened up led her to believe there was a chance she might see her again; only now she wasn’t sure. And as powerful as her imagination was, it would never be enough to simply relive memories. She wanted to create new ones.

Clarke  
Clarke paid close attention to the graceful way Lexa’s hips swayed as she made her exit. The last thing she saw were the Commander fingers on the lock. Those hands, always those hands, she thought to herself - the sight of which made her shudder. She was constantly examining Lexa’s hands with an artist’s eye, over and over again, not just during the past few days, but the entire time she’d known her. So long, so lean and tapered, feminine and strong, capable of great pleasure yet insurmountable harm. Sadly, her draw toward Lexa’s hands and Lexa in general didn’t change the fact that she wasn’t ready.

A compulsory sigh charged loudly from Clarke’s chest. She returned to her window. staring into the dark night sky, trying not to acknowledge the lingering scent of Lexa’s essential oils or the memory of the way her nightwear clung to her body in all the right places. She needed to separate herself from her desire. She invoked Wanheda, hoping the Queen of Death would drown the needs of the woman inside.

Shit had gotten extremely real for Clarke over the past few days, which is a bizarre statement considering all she’d been through in the past six months. Today was different though; she did not want Lexa to die. She couldn’t say the words aloud, but her feelings were as real as anything she’d ever known. Clarke felt tremendous guilt for not having supported Lexa more; believing in her more, and believing in her abilities. She had heard several rumors about Heda being absolutely amazing with staff and sword, but always thought it was a story put out there to protect her in case her physical strength paled in comparison to her brilliant mind. Yes, she’d seen Lexa wield a knife, but an object that small would do her no good against Prince Roan. He was ruthless and faster than anyone Lexa had ever seen. 

Then there was the matter of reincarnation. It was impossible to not be fully aware of Lexa’s belief that her spirit could travel from body to body, Clarke even somewhat understood the Grounder ways of survival, but having to force herself to accept the fact that like it or not Lexa’s imminent death was bound to her cultural identity was triggering a round of emotions inside her that seemed to pop off at will. This was why she said goodnight rather than pull Lexa into her arms. She simply could not go there in that moment. It was easier to remind Lexa that she was an Ambassador and that Lexa was the Commander; the power difference highlighted in the titles. Underneath it all, she wondered if it was equanimity she craved, yet she couldn’t follow the thought further. Something prevented her. 

Clarke recalled the time when Lexa asked her what she wanted from the future, their relationship implied. At the time, Clarke could only think of the moment she was in, but now she could easily admit to herself that there was a thought behind the thought, one she shoved down, one she denied, but was there nonetheless. It involved balance. If Lexa were her lover, there could be no power difference? But, even if they could somehow truly be equal, could Lexa understand how her looming death would affect them both? Would she set aside her resignation toward it and consider Clarke’s feelings instead? Would she fight to live?

Wanheda’s fist involuntarily slammed on the window ledge. The sound of flesh hitting stone with such surprising force rang through the night and Clarke’s psyche. She took a deep breath knowing she needed to calm. Maybe invoking Wanheda wasn’t the right thing to do in this moment. There was still so much rage simmering within her. She was set to boil. 

It was becoming painfully clear to Clarke that her anger was as ancient as her bloodline. She was karmically linked to it through her personal herstory and old rage toward her mother. She was linked to it through her fathers death, and the counsel for sending her to earth. She was drowning it it via Fin for having killed innocent people then offering up his life to save hers. Her rage was even karmically linked to Lexa for betraying her then saving her from the Ice Queen. She even fed the karma herself by being the person who, as Lexa pointed out, was driven to fix everything. 

Thoughts of escape once again ran through Clarke’s mind. She desperately wanted to return to her time alone in the woods yet there she was wrapped up in battle strategies and wearing them like a festoon surrounding not just her forehead, but her entire body. She wasn’t a lone hunter anymore; she was an Ambassador, a warrioress, a leader, a woman who cared for another, but feared her death. She was Clarke and she was Wanheda.

Another sigh escaped the curvaceous blondes body that now shivered in the cool night air. The long slow exhale was enough of a release to provide a modicum of calmness. In response, her mind continued its search for comfort. She considered Lexa’s words carefully. “They were doing what they thought was right for their people.” She found Lexa’s strength, or perhaps compassion, admirable. Still she had no idea how Lexa could so easily move on from the collective’s betrayal? 

From day one Clarke had been drawn to the ways in which Lexa was smarter and more compartmentalized than she. And now she was drawn to Lexa’s ability to let go. She wondered if forgiveness was something Lexa was capable of. It appeared as if she were, unless Lexa was putting on fronts and secretly strategizing a new approach. This thought invoked tears that threatened the back of her eyes. She closed her lids softly, letting a few escape outside each corner, then in the quietest of whispers, almost inaudibly, asked the most hidden place in her heart what it would it take to let go and step onto the path of forgiveness. 

Clarke felt shock when she heard herself ask this question. Where had it come from? She was not someone who prayed and yet somehow her inquiry felt like a prayer. She had no idea who she was praying to, but would bet Wanheda was listening. Would Wanheda understand that her rage was becoming an unbearable burden or would she fuel it knowing it was literally the only thing holding them together at the moment?

Lexa  
Lexa returned to her sleeping quarters. It was not where she wanted to be, but clearly Clarke wasn’t open to a deeper level of intimacy at this time. She’d gone there hoping for another evening together. They’d yet to discuss the night they shared after her fealty vow. Not a word. It was just like the first time they kissed; no discussion after, just a lingering closeness. A closeness that wasn’t as palpable this time around. however. There was a slight taste of it, yes, but it was nothing like before. This realization conjured sadness from the very depth of her soul. She’d felt it for the first time when having woken up alone, less than an hour after she’d opened herself so completely to Clarke. She was naked, still tingling from the orgasms Clarke evoked, craving closeness in a way she had never before. She reached out to find that she was alone; Clarke was gone. She had simply slipped away without a sound, like a ghost, an action that completely baffled her. She had the power to sense energy in a room and Clarke’s was so magnificent that the disappearance should have awoken her like a sudden plague upon the planet. 

Titus warned Lexa about spending too much time involved in intimate thoughts of Clarke. And in this moment, she knew he was right. She and Clarke could not keep going back and forth; it took far too much energy. And yet here she was, once again lying naked in her bed alone and wondered if Clarke would ever trust her; contemplating whether her betrayal had caused irreparable harm? Surely Clarke could understand that leaders must make decision with their people best interest in mind. She did exactly this during the village bombing and at Mount Weather - she put her people first and set emotional needs aside. 

There was also the matter of Lexa feeling hurt. She tried to let it go, but couldn’t fully, some of the hurt, yes, but not all of it. Clarke doubted her ability and truly believed Prince Roan would kill her and this cut her deeply. 

Lexa repeatedly remaindered herself that Clarke had never seen her fight, hell she even told Clarke this, rather emphatically in fact, and still Clarke doubted her. It took incredibly energy to keep Clarke’s doubt from rattling Lexa before battle. There was a strong feeling of pride at the end when Clarke showed up for her and even though the two took different paths to get to the same conclusion, they did eventually land on the same page. This was something.

Lexa forced herself to focus on the differences between herself and Clarke. She needed to, otherwise the pain of unrequited desire would consume her. She narrowed her thoughts to Clarke’s rage and dissected it. What was it that Clarke gained from holding onto it? How old was it? Will it prevent her from ever being able to lead with a clear mind? Will it prevent her from ever being able to forgive? Will it keep them apart?

Lexa sighed. It was becoming acutely clear to her that Clarke’s emotional magnetic field was laced with triggers. She had no idea how to dismantle all of them, but she came up with a plan for at least one. She would learn to navigate Clarke’s trigger around death. Conversations of reincarnation would be limited to a need to know basis. She would fantasize and suss the reasons why Clarke wanted her alive and hope there was a part of her that wanted an intimate loving relationship. She would also accept the fact that Clarke is who she is and right now she is someone for whom rage, distrust, and hauntings of death are triggers. 

Niylah  
Niylah had heard the news more times now than she could count. She was overjoyed to learn Clarke was alive, but she was also a bit taken aback to hear Wanheda had bowed to the Commander. She was even more baffled by the rumor that the two had become inseparable. The only way this made sense was if her earlier suspicion were true; there was a stronger connection between Lexa and Clarke than anyone realized. This thought made Niylah’s heartache. She and Clarke had shared only one night, and there was never any promise of another, but she had hoped Clarke would make her way back to the village someday.

After learning Lexa killed the Ice Queen, Niylah wondered what would be next for the dynamic duo. She didn’t ponder or attempt to answer her own question though. It was time to shut down thoughts of Clarke and move on. When it came to the blonde haired blue eyes goddess, her emotions ran too high. She needed to focus on the task at hand and get back to her life. 

Niylah had set out long before dawn to collect mescal, thorn apple, psilocybin mushroom, green tobacco and jimsonweed. She knew what half of the substances looked like and would rely upon her mother’s illustrations for the rest. She was beyond grateful to her mother for having drawn a map of where the best place to gather ritual ingredients were. She was even more appreciative of her mother’s careful notes about their power and the potency of each magical ingredient as well as the time of day they should be collected and the proper moon phase to harvest under. 

Gathering components of her first enhanced trance was only half of Niylah’s agenda. By the third time she had read through her mother’s journal markings and patterns had started to appear. They looked like code. She used her sharp mind and remembered things that were significant to her mother. After awhile, her mother’s secret language appeared. 

If Niylah was right, her mother had left a map leading to a magical place which she identified as a power spot, one safe and powerful enough for someone to do trance-work on their own, even if for the first time. First light was kind as well. It shone through the branches like a spotlight. The whole time Niylah felt her mother guiding her, directing brightness exactly where it needed to be. Either that or she was particularly good at finding and identifying herbs. 

By daybreak, Niylah had found all but one of the ingredients she sought. The last she’d locate by the river where it was believed to thrive. She had purposefully decided to harvest it last because if she understood her mother’s language, the power spot was upstream about 5 kilometers. 

After gathering the last herb on her list, Niylah walked the rivers edge until she found the bluff her mother described. It did indeed shaped like a woman with her head and heart tilted toward the eastern skyline. She used the eye blurring technique from her mother’s book to see it. Really see it. Truly see it. How she wished seeing aura’s came as easily.

In absolute elation, Niylah climbed the bluff past the stone statue and looked between the cedars and bramble for a small animal path snaking through giant fiddleheads. It was there, sure as the eye could see. She took a deep breath and bound forth knowing what awaited her would undoubtedly change her life forever.

Insight

Clarke

Clarke absorbed every detail of Aiden's Conclave. It was a beautiful location overlooking Polis and the air that filled her lungs was stunningly clear. It actually felt good to breathe. An essential element had quickly turned addictive.

The midmorning light was equally amazing. Every color reflected vibrancy, each hue shined bright.

Then there was Lexa. The dress she wore fit her perfectly. For one second, Clarke imagined her as a bride, her bride. The thought made her id stand at attention. She forced it down, not out of anger, rage or disgust, but respect. Now was not time a time for fantasy and desire. Now was a time for support. It took every ounce of energy Clarke had to accept the fact that this Conclave meant more talk of death and reincarnation, but she gave it consciously.

A second voice appeared as Aiden pledged his declaration. It was confusing to Clarke. Was she hearing what she thought she heard? Could there really be two voices in stereo with the same inflection and same cadence? The new one took a moment to recognize, but once it became clear, there was no doubt in her mind that it was Lexa's. She sounded exactly how Clarke imagined she might as a child.

Clarke stood in awe watching Aiden being sworn in as Lexa's Second while listening to Lexa's voice as she became Anya's. No childlike image of the young Heda appeared, only her voice rang through.  
What struck Clarke most was the authentic dedication and commitment to each sentiment and how consciously two extremely young people made it. It affected her deeply. She began to understand Lexa's culture, her role, and her destiny on a deeper level.

The proclamations Aiden and Lexa made were of peace and protection, wisdom and reverence, bravery and intellect. This is what Clarke wanted in a leader and how she herself had hoped to lead. She considered whether or not she would have been more successful had she been trained the way Aiden and Lexa were.

Clarke knew she could not continue living surrounded by so much death, fear, and violence. It was literally killing her molecule by molecule. The smell of fatality rarely left her nostrils and a second didn't go by when she didn't hate herself for what she'd done.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, everything went black. Black like Clarke had only seen in space. What followed was the feeling of her body flying through the air. The second she made contact with the earth again; she knew she had landed on stone.

Air was forced from Clarke's lungs on impact. No matter what her brain said, her body refused to inhale. Moments turned into what felt like minutes. Fear; there was just so much of it. Then the ringing started, breaking the silence, and she heard a voice cut through. The voice screamed her name. Who screamed it, she didn't know. Then came a force out of nowhere, not like hands, but energy. It rolled her onto her side causing her airway to open. She gasped and her lungs filling rapidly. She could taste iron and smell ammunition and fuel.

"Find Lexa!" a voice demanded. Clarke still didn't recognize the voice. She looked with her eyes toward where it came. The blackness turned into wafts of grey. Smoke. The blackness was smoke and now it was grey and it was everywhere. Her mind processed what had just happened. She was starting to make sense of it all.

"FIND LEXA!" the voice demanded again. It was so close to her ears this time it was unnerving. Maybe it was inside her? Maybe it was her own voice? Maybe it was Wanheda's?

Clarke forced herself onto her knees. She looked in the direction where Lexa had been. She saw no one. There was a collapsed stone alter where Lexa and Aiden had stood moments earlier. Jagged boulders as well. They seemed to be plunging up from the earth core. And there were flames, small flames everywhere.

Clarke panicked. Her breathing was becoming irregular. The small gasps of air which she could manage weren't making their way to the depth of her lungs. "ON YOUR FEET!" the voice commanded. She complied and within an instant made her way toward the area where Lexa once was. The smoke cleared and she caught a glimpse of what she knew had to be Lexa's lower body.

Fear coursed through her as her breath became even shallower. She could see Lexa was pinned under a thick stone slab. With uncanny strength, she lifted the stone away, making sure not to cause injury in the process. She was indescribably relieved to find Lexa alive and regaining consciousness.

Clarke looked deeply into the beautiful commanders eyes and saw an equal mix of shock and compassion. Not awe, compassion. How is it that Lexa could speak compassionately with her eyes, no matter what situation they found themselves in?

The two instantly scanned the scene for pressing danger. Finding none they moved their eyes up and down the other's body. They didn't even bother to check themselves first; they were far more concerned with the others wellbeing and need to address fatal injuries.

Clarke became mindful when Lexa noticed her shallow breathing. It would be impossible for her to ever forget the way Heda held her gaze and assuredly said, "You're safe now. Breathe slowly and into my hand," which she placed on Clarke's naval.

Breathing as instructed, Clarke examined every inch of her Queen. Her black dress had made it impossible to see the blood at first, but with a closer examination it became clear. Clarke felt the color rush from her face and knew Lexa had seen her pale.

"You're wounded," she whispered.

"I'm not." Lexa replied extending her arms while seeing Clarke staring at her neck and shoulder. She brought her hand where Clarke's eyes fell and ran her fingers over the fabric pulling it back to find night's blood. "Aiden," she screamed decibels above the sounds of people around them starting to recover.

Both women shot into action. Another quick scan led their eyes to Titus. Lexa rushed to his side and told him to lie still. It was from his side that she watched Clarke roll away the stone that allowed Aiden's young broken body to be seen.

Lexa's bellow would have alarmed the living and the dead. She made her way to Aiden's side and held him in her arms, bringing his sweet youthful face to her breast, stroking his hair like a mother would. Titus made his way to the boy as well. Touching Aiden's leg he offered the obligatory, "Your fight is over."

"May we meet again," Lexa added with tears welling in her eyes. She kissed him lightly before scanning the scene around her. Her guards, now at the ready, took action the instant she commanded, "Find Ontari!"

Though it felt like a split second, it must have been hours later when Clarke, Lexa and Titus were back in the war room at Polis. No one spoke of what had just happened and what it meant to have lost Aiden or how many years of training lie ahead for whomever would be chosen his successor. They did speak of Ontari, however, and how she'd had her revenge. The fact that she was nowhere to be found was alarming. Even more alarming was the possibility of whomever she might align with next. Lexa became more and more agitated with the conversation and the second Titus brought up the smell of ammunition and fuel she furiously demanded he leave.

Being the natural born caregiver that she was, Clarke wanted to comfort Lexa, but had no idea how. She was still processing the scent of fuel. Alongside her confusion was guilt. It surged through her. She had made her reservations about Aiden clear and she now felt incredible regret around this. Self-hatred arose within her once again. She loathed the part of her that felt a sense of relief that Lexa would now have to remain Heda and fight to live.

Seeing Lexa in such pain tore at Clarke's soul so much that even though she didn't know how to help, she knew she had to try. She padded quietly toward the window where Lexa stood and gently placed a hand on the lithe cat eyed Commanders shoulder before whispering, "Lexa, what can I do? How can I help?"

Lexa swung around so quickly it caught Clarke completely off guard. It reminded her of the panther from the woods, the one that nearly killed her. Instantly, Clarke realized that the warrior in Lexa had become animalized. There was no describing the shock that ran through her system when Heda, wild eyed and nostrils flared, pushed her backward then backward some more until she was pinned up against the stone wall with both hands above her head, her wrists held firm in Lexa's grip, their eyes and mouths only inches apart.

"Did you do this?" she demanded. "Were you once again trying to fix things you cannot, things that are not yours to repair, just so you don't have to experience my death?"

Clarke was shocked. How could Lexa think this of her? Tears surfaced without any chance of restriction.

"Lexa, I would never hurt you or your people like this." Clarke managed to say before her throat became too constricted with emotion to continue. Her heart raced and ached with the realization that the distrust between them had just become mutual. Up until that moment it had always Clarke who questioned Lexa's actions, but now the tables were turned. The tears that surfaced broke free and streamed down. She shook underneath Lexa's tight grasp and took no comfort in the way Heda used her strong thighs and upper body to press her more firmly against the wall.

The two women stared into each other's eyes for a very long time. Clarke's emanated fear and tried to communicate truth. She needed Lexa to believe that she would never hurt her like this. Heda took her time deciding whether to believe Clarke or not, but once she did her eyes began to soften and Clarke shuddered with relief.  
Slowly loosening her grip, leaving red marks and fingernail indentations on Clarke's wrists, and with the same animalization as before, Lexa launched off the curvaceous blonde's body and turned her rage toward the war table, violently sweeping every item from it then toward the wall opposite Clarke. She tossed her throne as if it were made of matchsticks. Next she placed her attention on the heavy ceiling to floor drapes behind the Queens station. She unhinged them so aggressively and with such force they could be heard swooshing through the air. She then made her way to the clay water pitcher and mugs which shattered and echoed throughout the chamber. By the time she'd knocked down every sword and staff the guards were at the door. They burst in and were sent away as quickly as they came. Lexa had hissed her disapproval with a power strong enough to penetrate dense objects, Clarke's body being one of the most obvious. Lexa's pain pierced her skin.

The interaction with the guards halted Lexa's raging assault, however. She stood still for many seconds staring at the door through which they came and left.

It was clear to Clarke that Lexa was putting herself back together. She stood there for several minutes watching Heda become Lexa again then fall to her knees and place her palms over her eyes.  
Clarke wanted to move toward the wounded warrioress, but was still pinned against the wall where she'd been left just moments earlier. It was as if she were held in place by an invisible force. She hadn't moved a single inch, but when the warrioress collapsed, the voice inside her returned. "Go to her! Go now!"

Clarke, one her knees facing Lexa, gently pulled her hands from her eyes and placed them in her lap. She then wove her fingers into the Commanders hair and encouraged eye contact. "It's going to be okay," she whispered. "We'll figure this out and we'll find Ontari."  
Lexa appeared to contemplate Clarke's words then nodded slowly. She offered no resistance when Clarke lifted her to her feet. Opposition came only when Clarke walked her toward the bed. "No!" she rasped, sounding somewhat defeated, "I'm covered in Aiden's blood."

Clarke realized Lexa was correct. They had only been back in Polis for a short while and hadn't had time for hygiene. She immediately went to the door and ordered the guards to have hot water and basins brought up. They looked right past Clarke to their Commander for permission. She nodded and within minutes they returned, Wanheda's request met.  
"Please sit," Clarke whispered. Lexa complied, but it was clear that she was not yet herself. Still, she allowed Clarke to begin carefully removing her armor. Once Heda was stripped of metal and leather, Clarke sought permission to continue. Lexa consented with a nod.

Slowly and gently, Clarke washed off as much blood as possible. She saved the dried streak descending from Lexa's collarbone under the fabric toward her breast for last. Making soft eye contact, Clarke gave Lexa time to process her movements. She unhurriedly reached out to undo the highest clasp above Lexa's cleavage and instantly felt a surge of sexual energy flare. Her movements must have somehow triggered desire. She felt ashamed or her libido and tried to will it into submission. Now was not the time.

After successfully unclasping the first, Clarke reached for the next. For the second time that evening, she experienced the animalized swiftness of Lexa's unpredictable response. This time instead of being pinned against a stone wall she found herself on her back against a stone floor, hands and wrists once again pinned above her head, nails digging in. She inhaled sharply as the cat eyed lithe Commander planked her, emanating a power that invoked a lightheadedness like she had never known. She was at once wholly aroused and terrified.  
Lexa held strong and allowed for no movement from the woman beneath her. She seemed to be considering options.

Clarke had no idea what would happen next. She tried to focus on the only thing Lexa's offered and matched her breath. She melted as each inhalation pulled her in then each exhalation set her free. The desire coursing through her veins was overwhelming. She blinked several times and bit her bottom lip, an action that conjured a look of satisfaction on the warrioresses face.

Seeing Lexa take pleasure in her sexual power stripped Clarke of all resolve. She couldn't take anymore of Lexa's metaphysical penetration and stopped breathing altogether. What oxygen was left in her body took station in her lower abdomen. She could literally feel heat rise and energy swirl between their bodies. Lexa hadn't moved a single inch and yet it felt like she had bore into the crux of her very being.

Clarke shuddered when Lexa used her strong arms to lower herself and disappear all but an inch of space between their bodies, starting with her core, then her breast and finally her mouth. Clarke's hips involuntarily trusted upward, but met nothing but air. Lexa lifted just in time and just enough to prevent responded with a long slow throaty growl. The animal within Clarke was taking over as well; she couldn't think; her mind stopped working completely; her body was no longer her own. She had absolutely no control of the situation. Lexa had it all, every last bit. She acquiesced and lowered her perfectly shaped ass back to the floor and surrendered.

Elation would be the right adjective to use for the way Clarke felt when Lexa lowered herself once again. She hoped for contact this time, but wasn't surprised it was withheld. Clarke felt desperate and tried with her mind to will Lexa to bring their lips together. Her will wasn't strong enough. Her mind was not stronger than Lexa's. She gasped for air when Lexa finally brought her mouth a millimeter from Clarke's ear and in a heated whisper said, "You're going to need to make a decision soon, Clarke. We're coming to a crossroad. Energy is precious and it can no longer be wasted on this push/pull thing we do, especially now with Aiden gone. If you're going to forgive me, forgive me. If you're going to love, love me. If you're not going to do these thing, let me go." And just like that she lifted herself in a move so graceful Clarke didn't believe it had even happened. Lexa was on her feet and only the heat and energy generated by the closeness of their cores lingered.

It took her several moments for Clarke to catch her breath. She simply lay there on the cold floor listening to Lexa pour a bath then drag the remaining water and second basin to another area of the war room where she'd take her own in private. She considered the pouring of the first to be Lexa's invitation for her to stay and was grateful. She did not want to leave.

Both women stayed in their respective spaces for hours. Clarke went over Lexa's words again and again. Desire still coursed through her veins and her fingers involuntarily made way to the wetness generated by their exchange and migrated to her taught nipple and full breasts while she bathed. She stopped herself every time she became aware of her actions. She couldn't risk Lexa feeling her sexual energy resurface. The warrioress had made it very clear that they were not going to share intimacy again until Clarke had worked through her stuff.

Clarke was the first to rise from her bath. She'd soaked so long the water had become cold. She took liberty and helped herself to the Commanders wardrobe. She chose something for herself and something for her Queen, which she placed near the area where Lexa bathed. She got close enough to indicate she'd left something for her, but not close enough to invade space - after which, she set to putting Heda's war room back together, the whole time pondering her need to "fix things". She snuck peaks in Lexa's direction, from time to time, making sure not to be seen. Lexa rarely moved from her position. She just sat there in the water, staring out the window, occasionally cupping her palms over her eyes. Clarke knew Lexa was fighting back tears and it tore at her soul.

When Lexa finally slipped from her bath and dressed, she padded directly to Clarke side and dropped to her knees. She took Clarke's hands into her own and whispered, "I'm sorry. I should never have pushed boundaries. I hope I didn't hurt you." She then looked down and could see that there were indeed marks on Clarke's wrists. Sadness took over her delicate features and she was about to speak when Clarke pulled her into an embrace.

Clarke was astounded to feel Lexa shaking. She was in awe of the way the Commander could be so power yet so vulnerable. She pulled away slightly, rose to her feet and lifted Lexa to hers, just like she did the night of her featly vow. Hand in hand they stood, just like before, gazing into each other's eyes, only this time Clarke walked them to Lexa's bed where they faced one another.

"Will you stay until I fall asleep?" Lexa whispered – her voice giving away hopefulness.

"Yes, Clarke whispered nodding affirmation. She then eased Lexa down on her side and climbed behind her, spooning her and pulling the covers over them both. She held Lexa close and memorized ever curve of her body, stroking her arms gently, generating heat, but being extremely careful not to invoke any sexual energy.

Clarke awoke to the sensation of Lexa's hands touching her own. It was daylight and they were in the exact same position they were earlier, spooning, curves melding, fingertips touching. She'd slept little and spent much time thinking about what she wanted to say. She promised herself she would be completely open and vulnerable and state her needs; needs that if met might help her to come to a place of forgiveness.

"Hey," she whispered in Lexa's ear.

"Hey," Lexa replied turning slightly.

"How are you feeling?"

"Better."

"Good," Clarke purred.

"You stayed."

"Yeah, I was hoping we could talk about something, but I can understand if you're not up to it right now."

Lexa elegantly turned her entire body toward Clarke, made eye contact, and nodded in an encouraging way. Clarke spoke in a raspy beautiful tone and manner. Her words had poise, grace and strength. "Lexa, I want to figure this out, but I don't know that I can in this setting. I need for us to find time away somehow, just the two of us; no Heda; no Wanheda; no Coalition; no SkaiCru; no Grounders; just us, just Lexa and Clarke. We deserve a chance at something better than this, something more. I want us to…"  
The sound of knocking awoke Clarke with a start. A guards voice on the other side of the door bellowed, "The Commander requests your presence in chambers. In one hour there will be an acknowledgement of Prince Roan's transition to King."

Clarke closed her eyes in absolute confusion. It was all a dream. All of it, a dream, but it couldn't be. There was no way. It just couldn't be a dream.

The night before she'd sent Lexa away from her room and now here she was dreaming about her and their intimate relationship. She collapsed onto the bed in utter frustration. And just like in her dream, her fingers involuntarily made way to the most sacred parts of her body.

Home

Niylah

It took several seconds before Niylah's eyes adjusted to the unusual slant of light. She couldn't tell if it was the downward spiral climb she took to get there that made her feel light headed or the shadow cast streaming about. She grounded herself then stood in awe looking up at the magnificent natural light streaming in from above. She took in everything around her. She recognized some of the things she saw that had belonged to her Mother and others that were items from her dreams.

By no means was the cavern large, 25x25'at best. The shape was almost a perfect circle. There were drawings, symbols, lists and maps chalked on the walls. There were the remote sounds of water trickling somewhere close. The floor was clean and smooth.

The focal point was a medium sized fire pit. It was made of many small to medium sized stones and several larger boulders surrounding it. It appeared that they served as stools and workstations. In the center was a tripod that was sturdy enough to hang meat and a large cauldron. The cauldron was there hanging, asking to be used. The entire space was dedicated to keeping the Old Ways alive.

Once again, Niylah's eyes lifted toward the ceiling. The way the stonewalls arched toward the opening was magnificent. She knew without igniting a single branch that fire smoke would ascend directly to the opening above and not permeate an inch of the living space.  
This is a perfect sanctuary, Niylah thought to herself and then set out like a little kid to explore. She was giddy, elated and engulfed in reverence. Every moment and every item felt like a gift.

The first thing Niylah was drawn to was the Eastern alter. Items of her Mother's could be found there as well as several of her own. A childhood hairbrush, a clay goblet she made from river clay when she was little, and a necklace. Her breath hinged when she saw the latter. She hadn't thought of it for years. It was one her Mother put on her every time she'd left the house. "It will bring you good luck," she'd always say.

Niylah reached down and touched the necklace admirably. She had always loved the way the stone shone in light; golden with moss streaks running through. Her fingertips absorbed the sensation. It was charged with electricity, which should have alarmed her, but didn't. Without hesitation she brought it to her head. It was too small to slip over cleanly, but it had an expansion, which she quickly set to a larger size. How long had it been since she'd worn it? Fourteen years perhaps? It felt absolutely magical. She loved having it back. She now understood that it wasn't lost it; her mother had brought it her.  
Niylah conjured images of her Mother sitting on the floor in front of her alter, reverently honoring the shrine made of wood and stone, each trinket, each homemade candle, each bundles of dried herbs, the goblet.

"Mom," she whispered falling to her knees. She made a point of sitting next to where she thought her Mother would have been, not directly in front.

"Esthara," a whisper echoed through the chamber. "In here, I'm Esthara".

Niylah swung around and examined every corner. No one was there. No one she could see anyway. She sighed and let go. If her Mother were going to make contact, it would be here. She did not press energy or call out. She knew Esthara would appear when ready.  
With absolute sincerity, Niylah contemplated her Mother's name. Until that moment she was just Mom. Now she was much, much, more. She was Esther. She was what some called a Shaman, but most called a Witch. There was a difference. Niylah knew this even before reading her Mother's journal. The difference, however, became clearer over the past few days. Esthara was both. The Witch in her manifested power on this realm and Juhn Nation, which is what she reverently referred to in her journal as the "Other World." The Shaman in her walked between worlds and could literally interact with beings, souls and spirits that walked freely in this space. The Witch in her could have as well, but retrieval was not a skill the Witch inside her honed. Shaman lineage was in her blood, the Witch lived in her DNA. Retrieval was something her bloodline was particularly skilled at.

Niylah thought back to the first time she'd learned about the other world. She was an avid reader, always had been, and at age eight came across CS Lewis's, The Man Who Knew Too Much. It blew her mind to think of what Lewis called purgatory. It scared her actually, but only at first. She asked her Mother about it. In a surprisingly grown up manner, she explained how "Some people believe there is a place where souls and spirits reside. She went on to spell out the difference by saying, "Souls leave a body with death and travel without it until they are reborn into a womb. Spirits have a body, but sometimes they experience trauma or pain so strong that they abandon it."

I don't understand Mom, how can I leave my body? Niylah remembered asking.

"Well it's like this honey. Remember when you were really angry with that man that who was mean to his daughter?

"Yeah!"

"It's just like what happened then. Do you remember how you were so angry that you told me you felt like you were beside yourself? You had felt that little girls pain and you were so upset that your spirit left your body for a little bit, but it only left to protect you so that you wouldn't have to feel the wounding so profoundly."

"And my spirit came back?"

"Yes, of course honey, Esthara said with a head ruffle. "But it's important to know not all spirits come back. Yours always will because you're an amazing girl and you are unusually grounded, so your spirit will stay close. Some spirits aren't so lucky. There are even some that are incredibly grounded, but experience trauma so great that they simply can't stay here. The pain would devour them. So they go somewhere else to survive it. It would hurt too much to stay here, so they leave. Most make their way back here after a time, but some aren't so lucky. Some need help. They need someone to retrieve their spirit for them."

"Where do they go?"

"Most seek solace in the place between our worlds. It's a place where spirits gather. Some stay there because they prefer the company of other spirits to people with bodies. Others want to come back, but don't know how or are too terrified that if they come back it will be the same way as before. But the world between is a dangerous place, not for all spirits, but for most. It's very alluring because there's less pain, or so it appears at first, but the longer a spirit stays there, the more mental anguish they suffer from the separation and the more difficult it is to return to their body. The spirits home is in the body you see, and unification is the way to a healthy heart and mind. The ones who spend the greatest length of time in between start to dissociate in each realm."

"Mom, will it happen to me again?"

“Honey, you're my daughter and you're my blood. You will always be able to leave your body and travel and you will always find your way back; no matter what realm you enter. Integration is in your bloodline. You could become beside yourself with rage again, yes, and you could feel so in love with someone that you feel turned inside out, but you my dear sweet girl, you will always be tethered.

Niylah lingered on the memory of her mother for a very long time before setting out to explore other areas of the cave.

The South wall had a shelf and jars filled with ingredients, as well as stacks of animal skins, masks, bones and extra cloth. This was where the sound of trickling could be heard the most. There was also a large rock pile that caught Niylah's eye. She got the feeling that if a few of the lower stones were pulled loose, she'd find a second entrance/exit.  
The West wall had a stack of books, rolled maps, a staff, three rattles, and a goatskin drum. It also had a large map chalked onto the wall. The cave art was skillfully drawn and illustrated both earth and sky. Niylah stared at it for the longest time. She recognized some of the images from her Mother's journal; others were completely new.  
The North wall was set up as a sleeping quarters. There was a bathing basin and feather bed. The blankets were made from animal skins and appeared to be soft, clean and mold free. She couldn't resist lying down; the lure was just too strong.

The second Niylah's head hit the pillow she felt comforted by the residual energy of her Mother. She loved the position of the pillow and how it looked directly into the now darkening sky. Night was falling.  
Feathers molded around Niylah. They welcomed Niylah while the scent of lavender swirled about. She thought about her day and was extremely grateful she had told her father there was a possibility she might not return that evening. Yes, she felt a pinch of guilt knowing he'd worry, but this was something she had to do. This was where she needed to be, ready or not. She took several deep breaths, stretched her long lean arms and legs and settled in. She'd catch a quick nap, then head out for firewood to keep her through the night.

Come What May  
Lexa

Lexa took a second to go over the past forty-eight hours. Her face and ribs still hurt from combat with Prince Roan. Moreover, her heart ached for having been sent away from Clarke’s room the night before. Putting herself that far out there was an act of bravery more difficult then accepting Queen Niyah’s challenge.

It seemed as if there were a lot of road left to travel before she and Clarke would pick up where they were before Mount Weather. The reality that it might not lead to an intimate relationship was sinking in. Confusion was as well. Clarke seemed to say one thing with her words and another with her eyes and body. For example, their morning began wonderfully. They had shared many intimate looks on the way to Arcadia, looks that seemed to speak volumes, yet Clarke was leaving Polis and going home. That was before the genocide of an entire army happened, an army there to protect SkaiCru. 

Now Lexa paced back and forth. How did I get here, she asked herself quietly before letting a flood of memories answer. It started with the boy they called Finn. The way Clarke looked at him reminded her of what she once had with Costia. So she caved and disappointed her people; people who counted on her ruthlessness and leadership to save them from the vicious cycle of war and death. This is where her unraveling of Clarke of the Sky People began. 

The instant the Sky Queen offered herself in exchange for Finn’s life, Lexa understood. She would have done the same for her lover, even if it meant abandoning her people and trusting fate that the next Heda was ready for command. The way Clarke admitted to having blood on her hands, the way she took Finn’s life right in front of an army who believed they deserved retribution, the way she made no apology; it was all so easy for her. She was a young leader and things in her mind were still cut and dry. It was one way or the other, right or wrong, just or unjust. She stood in judgment and in judgment over others. And now here she was lying on the ground at Indra’s side while Lexa stood watch at the door. 

With hands entwined behind her back, Lexa moved about the tent, her head occasionally nodding from side to side. It was as if she was saying no, but to whom? Herself or Heda? Did it really matter? The answer had to be yes, no matter how much reservation she felt. She had to agree to Clarke’s request, even if her body was saying no. Now was the time to take a first real step toward peace. She would call for peace instead of revenge. Blood would not be answered with blood.

The Commander went over her advantages. She had won a huge victory over Ice Nation and asserted her skill and power in battle with King Roan. This was huge. Her physical power was no longer in question, and the coup had failed. Yet there was no guarantee there wouldn’t be another. If there were, she could be sure that some of her own people would turn on her as well. Convincing Polis to take a peaceful approach was going to be nearly impossible, Indra was right and Lexa knew it. Indra was also right about weaponry. They stood no chance against the Sky People without taking up arms of equal velocity, the thought of which made Lexa feel physically ill. 

Looking down at Clarke, Lexa tuned into the curvaceous blondes steady breathing. She felt relieved that Clarke was able to get some rest. She so desperately wanted to please her and more than anything she wanted to keep her vow. She’d promised herself she would do everything in her power to NEVER betray Clarke again, a promise that now seemed to be entangled with Clarke’s requests. The amount of danger Clarke’s petition, if granted, put her in danger that was not discussed aloud. She wondered whether Clarke truly understood what she asked. Lexa's mind returned to how Clarke seemed to think decisions were so easy, so simple, so clean. 

Sighing loudly, Lexa came face to face with her anger over the senseless attack. What was Pike thinking? Then she realized he wasn’t. Leaders like him come and go. They exert muscle and bravado. They think they're superior. They’re like short distance runners who cannot get past the hundred-yard line. He’ll be gone in a month and yet his people will have suffered his rein in unimaginable ways. His legacy will be determined by what he does next. Lexa’s will as well. Her entire life’s mission had been instantly dismantled by Pikes ignorance. 

Sky People brought a whole new level of violence to Heda’s world. She often felt saddened by this fact, not overwhelmed or angered, just saddened. She wanted Clarke’s people to be her people, but she didn’t want this part of them. Their ways were just more to manage. Their ways had ultimately led to Earth’s destruction. All the mass murder, poverty, disparity, industrialization, nuclear devastation, disease causing medications and brain washing fear mongering of the Twenty-First Century could be found in Pike’s display of racist bravado. The ruthless part of her wanted to personally remove him from power, but she knew she shouldn’t. His rein would end when his people said so.

Lexa stole another quick glance in Clarke’s direction. She closed her eyes softly and felt a sense of despair. Clarke was truly her undoing. If only the attraction would leave, she thought to herself. If only she could stop wanting her, wanting to please her, wanting to love her. The attraction she felt for the curvaceous blonde had always taken more than it gave. It bled into every decision she made, starting with Finn and now quite possibly ending with Pike. 

If Lexa considered Clarke’s request from Heda perspective, she knew she was asking too much. She also knew Wanheda could use her sexual power over Lexa to get what she wanted anytime she wanted. She couldn’t blame her, it was a beautiful display of power after all. 

Heda often saw thing more clearly than Lexa, especially when it came to attraction. She also saw the two women as equally matched and knew the legendary warrior was as ruthless and calculating as she could ever be. Time would prove this. Wanheda was a force. Ideas didn’t simply pop into Clarke’s head as they appeared; Wanheda placed them there. Wanheda strategized and played a long game, just like Heda did. The million dollar question was whether Wanheda was taking advantage of Lexa through Clarke to save her people.

Another long slow sigh slipped from the Commanders chest. She had to get behind her decision and accept the outcome. It might be the last decision she ever made in this body. And the more she paced the room, the more she became aware of the deaths energy lingering in the shadows. She grounded herself and tried to feel strong. “Come what may,” she whispered into the darkness. Rather than making her feel strong, the affirmation weakened her. She felt a lump in her throat and had to fight back tears. She wanted desperately to be held, not by anyone, by Clarke. The emotional swing between winning the battle with King Roan to the slaughter of her army was taking a toll. “Come what may,” she repeated then said it a third time hoping the words would truly sink in.

Manifestation

Clarke 

Clarke wanted Lexa to think she was asleep. She measured her breathing and relaxed her body as much as she could while lying next to Indra. She allowed a small part of her mind to remain conscious of the wounded warrior's physical needs, but dedicated the rest to strategy. 

Just as Clarke expected, the voice of Wanheda appeared for their nightly conversation, which had now become a ritual. Since her inception at Mount Weather, Wanheda appeared most every night before bed and questioned everything Lexa said or did. Wanheda didn’t trust Lexa and quite possibly never would. It was her job to distrust. She was Clarke’s protector; she questioned everything and everyone; Lexa most of all.

Wanheda was convinced Lexa made a deal with the Mountain People the night Clarke set Emerson free, but Clarke knew better. She had personally drained his air supply and there was no way that even if Lexa’s men had captured him they would have had the o2 to replenish his tank. She tried to get Wanheda to understand this by pointing out that it was far more likely Lexa made “the deal” after the Mountain started to kick her army’s ass, just as they’d done for years. She reminded her that Lexa was covered in blood, not night-blood, but the bright red blood of Grounders. Her hand was probably forced. Wanheda would hear none of it. To her, there had to have been another way. 

“From day one!” Wanheda hissed, “She’s been playing you from day one!” 

Wanheda wouldn’t, not for a singular second, believe that any of the intimate tender moments between Clarke and Lexa were real. She considered Lexa to be a sociopath incapable of genuine emotion. She would not open herself, not even in the slightest, to the possibility that Lexa was brainwashed since birth by cultural survival techniques and Night Blood training forced upon her during the most fundamental and crucial developmental period of life. Clarke pointed out that Lexa was a child when she took command, but the response was always the same, “She has a warrior spirit and the capability of reincarnation!” The conversation always stopped there. Clarke simply couldn’t wrap her mind around a spirit moving from body to body.

Wanheda most recent questioning involved Lexa’s battle with King Roan. She was convinced they had made a deal. Lexa promised to kill his mother instead of him, and he would take the throne, which benefited them both. He’d have to look past the fact that Lexa failed to honor their previous agreement and he’d have to throw the battle. He could have had some security in trusting that Heda would indeed want to kill his mother; however, after all it was she who murdered Costia. This was an argument Clarke’ found hard to refute, even though Lexa’s fighting skills were magnificent. She made her argument anyway. King Roan put up a hell of a fight; a fight just like Clarke expected from him. In all appearances, Heda was faster, stronger, more cunning, more ruthless and won fair and square. 

Clarke could feel her breathing become irregular again. She forced a rhythm. She needed this one last bit of quiet time to think. She silenced Wanheda and was relieved when the Death Queen obeyed.

The woman inside Clarke didn’t question the attraction she and Lexa shared. It was real, hell it was palpable. The woman in her didn’t question Lexa’s desire for peace either, just her methods. She thought back to her petition and every word she spoke when asking the Commander to be the first to lay down arms. She knew she had deliberately strung together words that would pull heartstrings. She trusted what she knew in her bones, Lexa couldn’t articulate it yet, but truly wanted to lead from a place of balance, not with just her mind, nor her heart, but both. Balanced. 

Clarke thought back to every personal decision she had made as a commander along the way. Not once did she want to kill someone. Every time she had, her hand was forced. She couldn’t be sure if the same were for Lexa, but hoped. And, just like that, the sensation of hope induced fear within her psyche. This fear, now conjured, rested squarely in the pending consequences of Lexa concession. Heda was about to put her head in the lion’s mouth and Clarke knew it. Indra’s warning resounded over and over, “Polis will not support you.”

“I need a plan,” Clarke whispered to herself, warning Wanheda to let her figure it out on her own.

Clarke strategized option after option before realizing there was one she could quite possibly manifest. It wasn’t original. She would kill Lexa before she would allow her to be tortured and murdered by her own people. But, there was a catch; she would not actually kill her, instead she would stage her death. If Polis rejected Lexa’s decision and moved against her and her life was in imminent danger, Clarke would reach out to Titus and together they would figure out a way to convince the coalition that Lexa were dead. This would likely involve drugging and kidnapping her for there was no way Lexa would go willingly. 

Together, Titus and Clarke would set the scene. No remains would be left behind. An explosion would be required. Clarke would steal Lexa away during the chaos. Titus would stay behind, but only on the peripheral; not close enough to get hurt, but near enough to where people would believe him when he said Lexa and Clarke were killed during the bombing. 

The question now was where to take Lexa. Well it wasn’t really a question, Clarke knew where, but the answer involved a certain amount of vulnerability. She would need to take Lexa to her bunker, the place where she stayed during her three-month seclusion. The life sized image she’d drawn of Lexa, standing stern like a warrior, blood dripping from her elbows, fingers and mouth, eyes like ice and fire, face fierce and void of empathy, was still on the wall. She’d have to explain it. She could though. It was how she felt in that moment. It was an expression she needed to allow herself in order to stay sane. And, if Lexa were open enough and looked close enough, she’d see the entire scene and the battlefield it was set in. She’d see Clarke was there too, climbing to her feet, not quite on them yet, but almost. She’d see Clarke taking her blinders off and looking directly at Heda, seeing her for who she is – a Commander of Grounders.

Clarke knew the bunker would be safe. No one ever came there. No one. Ever. It was below a mausoleum in the heart of a cemetery

The bunker was filled with supplies that were put there before the nuclear holocaust. The supplies were safe to be consumed and used. Clarke’s hunting and gathering tools were there as well. And, it was less than a kilometer away was a freshwater source. There was a wood heat stove, a secure hatch, and a second exit. They could live there for an extended period of time. Perhaps long enough for Aden to take control and formalize Lexa’s efforts. He was her Second; she trained him; he could pick up right where she left off and he’d be received differently. He didn’t have the Wanheda baggage Lexa had. He didn’t appear weak because of her. Wanheda would be dead. Peace could take hold.

Clarke’s mind was made. She sighed with relief, but not loud enough to alert the pacing Commander that she was awake. She craved more quiet time for her private thoughts. She allowed herself one more moment to consider the future. The image that came surprised her. It was of her waking up in the bunker to find Lexa gone. In panic she climbed the hatch with incredible haste, heart racing, blood rushing, hands sharking. And, with indescribable relief she found Lexa inches from the opening sitting quietly and taking in her surroundings.

“Hey, she whispered, her own arms wrapped around her tightly, like she was cold, or afraid. She didn't once look at Clarke.”

“Hey, Clarke whispered, ascending the top stair and sitting close. She stretched her legs and lifted her heart to the sky while letting the morning sun rest upon her face. 

Many moments of quiet went by before Lexa whispered, “I’ve always wondered if the stories were true about places like this.”

“Places like this?” Clarke asked inquisitively.

“My people believe the dead have insurmountable power here. As children we are taught to steer clear and never enter places like this. We are told that at any moment the dead can steal a body and force its occupant out by driving them insane.”

Clarke considered Lexa’s words carefully before confiding, “I stayed here for nearly three months when I was gone and never once experienced anything of the kind.”

“You’re the Queen of Death, Clarke, they would never harm you here. You’re their commander and this is your realm.”

Lexa’s words surprised Clarke. Surely she didn’t believe such things. Then she thought back to stories from her own youth and how she’d heard similar warnings about dark pockets and realized she had no idea whether the stories were true or not. Having never experienced them, how could she really know? This gave her an idea. “Perhaps we can use this to our advantage; we’ll be safe here, no one will enter. We can say well after Aden takes control. Should something happen and we would need to reappear, we could start a story of our own and tell people that Wanheda, the Queen of Death, entered the Realm of the Dead and brought you back to the living to carry out her wishes.”

Lexa smiled in such a way that Clarke was led to believe she took great satisfaction in the way her lessons had been absorbed. 

Clarke returned the smile, but felt a bit shy about it. Sensations were rising in her essence and she feared becoming overwhelmed.

“I like the drawing,” Lexa whispered, a hint of pain audible in her timbre.

Clarke nodded and started to explain.

“It’s okay, Clarke. I get it. I do. It’s a really beautiful illustration of what we’ve been through. The second I saw it, I was reminded of that day in your quarters when you held a knife to my throat.”

“When I couldn’t kill you,” Clarke interrupted.

Lexa nodded then leaned heavily on the hand closest to Clarke’s hip. She lowered her body slightly and made meaningful eye contact. “A day doesn’t go by when I don’t regret my decision. I wish I could have figured out a different way, but I was a different person then. I was unsettled at having confessed my feelings for you and I couldn’t stay open. I couldn’t fully trust our connection. I shut back down. I’m not that person anymore. Experiencing your pain has affected me in ways I could never have imagined. Knowing I turned you into…”

“Lexa,” Clarke cut her off, not wanting to hear what it was Lexa thought she turned her into, interrupted for a second time. “I know, Lexa.” she whispered and as she spoke a memory of her mother and father appeared. It was a memory from when she was little and realized for the first time what love was. In her mind, love was her parents sharing morning tea together, laughing, enjoyed each other’s company in peace, no work, and no politics, just them.

“I’ll be right back,” Clarke said jumping to her feat.

Lexa raised an eyebrow and Clarke realized she had very abruptly shut down their conversation. She dropped back down to her knees, restored eye contact and whispered, “Do you remember in Mount Weather when you asked me what I wanted for the future?”

“Yes,” Lexa nodded.

“This is what I want. I want to go downstairs and make us a pot of tea then sit her and drink it with you. I want to talk about our options and our connection and make decisions together. I want to start here.”

Impossible Closeness

Lexa

Lexa dismissed all guards from the Commanders Chambers and took advantage of the one brief moment she knew she’d have to herself to reflect upon what had just happened. Clarke had come to the plate entirely. She’d desperately hoped she would, but was worried she wouldn’t. The look in Clarke’s eyes earlier that afternoon was fierce, so fierce that it reminded her of how Wanheda lived and thrived inside of the curvaceous goddess. Surely, Wanheda wanted revenge, Lexa understood this; Heda wanted the same.

The relief Lexa felt when Clarke broke through and reinforced her Blood Must NOT Always Have Blood policy to the entire Coalition was immeasurable. She was prepared to give one speech, but hoped and prayed she could give another. 

Shaking her head from side to side was becoming a common gesture for Lexa these days. It was what she did every time she felt confused over Clarke’s actions, decisions, requests, glances and body language. 

Lexa thought back to the morning they had shared. She loved the way they had simply sat together and did so with such incredible comfort. It was absolutely exquisite to read for pleasure in Clarke's company and not feel obligated to talk over politics or battle strategies. It felt so nice to just be. Then the dream came and turned her inside out. 

There was no mistaking the comfort she felt when Clarke rushed to her side. She could still hear her words and the soft assuredness that rang within them, “It’s okay. You’re okay,” but then the sensation of Clarke’s tender touch took over. She couldn’t have it. It was an impossible closeness that she simply couldn’t allow for one second more. Clarke’s hand on her thigh and the heat emitting from it led to absolute confusion. A confusion she couldn’t stay with; an impossible touch; an unbearable closeness, so she acted fast, sat back and moved just far enough away that Clarke would remove her hand from her thigh, but not so far back that their conversation would end.

With the touch gone, Clarke’s words of reassurance held power. They could enter Lexa’s mind directly rather than having to be filtered through sensations that consumed her body and poked at a desire she’d promised herself to hold at bay until Clarke indicated she was ready. She knew she’d tried too soon; the night after the battle, but Clarke’s proclamation, “This is not just about my people!” raced through her psyche conjuring an elixir of encouragement. Needless to say, her initiation for deeper intimacy failed and left her feeling more vulnerable than she was comfortable being. 

Again, Lexa shook her head. Here she was, as she had been so many times before, consumed with thoughts of Clarke. She allowed herself one more and recalled the moment after the nightmare and how powerfully and sensually assertive Clarke was, the thought of which made her shudder. All Clarke had to say was “Listen to me,” and Lexa’s entire essence obeyed. She took in every word Clarke said and knew she was right. She did not allow herself to linger in Clarke’s longing glance for very long after, however. Their long tender wordless eye conversations were becoming as impossible as the occasional touch. She pulled free from Clarke’s gaze by retrieving her book, but was allowed only one second of freedom before her eyes fell upon Clark’s drawing. It was an image so beautiful and so profound it provided incredible information; information that needed no explanation. Lexa knew in her bones that Clarke saw her the way she drew her, strong, sensual, powerful and beautiful. 

Sighing loudly Lexa walked to her balcony. Clarke would need to tell her when she was ready. She could not continue on like this. She forced her attention to Titus. She needed to prepare herself for a conversation she was about to have with him. His constant questioning of her ability to lead and her feelings for Clarke were above and beyond his position of power. Apparently she needed to remind him of this fact.

Clarke  
Clarke left the Commanders chambers with everyone else. She didn’t want to go with the herd and watch Emerson loaded into transport; she wanted to stay back with Lexa, but Titus’s eyes were upon her, so she left. It wouldn’t hurt to have some time alone to reflect, she told herself. So much had happened that day. 

Leaving the pack, she started back to her room then suddenly remembered Titus’s earlier visit. She felt violated by his decision to enter without permission. He came to talk of peace, but he should never have taken such liberties, then again, he’s the Commanders Adviser and Clarke was a guest in her home, so he quite possibly felt he was within his rights. Still, she didn’t like it. She would discuss with Lexa when she had the chance. 

Fortunately, Clarke had more than one place to go. Instead of taking the hallway to her room, she walked through the main corridor and went to a landing she’d found a few days earlier. It had a public access where she could see anyone coming from either direction. It also had a gigantic iron decal she could shimmy up to a higher landing from which she could see Lexa’s private quarters. It required her to sit on the very outer edge and lean back in a precarious way, but she didn’t mind a bit. 

Once settled, Clarke watched Lexa’s room for signs of movement. No candles were lit. She decided to stay awhile and clear her head of the day’s events. She looked out at the night sky and went over everything. The impossible conversation with Wanheda about revenge and the way she echoed everything Clarke had overheard Titus warn Lexa about, how her judgment was impaired by their connection and how she was “too personally involved,” to make sound decisions. Clarke ran her fingers over her forehead in attempt to massage away tension. Wanheda and Titus were on the same page. Now that was something. 

Clarke didn’t second-guess her decision, however. It wasn’t easy to make, but she knew she made the right choice. She backed Lexa just like Lexa backed her. Her decision reinforced their allegiance. And now, just like Lexa, she had new and unknown enemies within the Coalition, enemies who were yet to accept nonviolence as an option. But, what was she to do? She couldn’t betray Lexa, she just couldn’t. She needed Lexa on her side and betraying her was a sure fire way of losing allegiance. Well, that wasn’t entirely true, Clarke had come to believe that Lexa meant every word of her fealty vow and would keep it, even if she were to murder Emerson with 49 cuts from her very own blade. Thankfully, she really did come to understand that killing Emerson wouldn’t have brought her peace. Titus reminded her of this, but it was Lexa who taught her. The lesson came that morning after the bombing when Lexa helped her kill the spotter. She knew it wouldn’t make Clarke feel better, but she helped her find out for herself. 

A flicker of light caught Clarke’s eye. There was movement inside Lexa’s private quarters. She sighed slowly. She knew she was stalking and shouldn’t be. It actually bothered her that she was, but she wanted more of Lexa and this was the safest way to satiate the need, even if it did heighten her hunger at the same time.

As Clarke waited for the light to grow bright enough to provide a glimpse of Lexa’s silhouette, she thought about their last intimate moments together. She’d tried not to let on, but it bothered her that Lexa moved away from her touch so quickly. She had done the exact same thing when Lexa tried to help her up after Emerson attacked her. The only difference was she understood her own reason for moving away quickly, but not Lexa’s. She had pulled away because she didn’t want Lexa, Titus, or anyone else for that matter, to see her as weak. Lexa wouldn’t have had this reason. They were alone and they had privacy. So why did she pull away? Clarke needed an answer. The not knowing haunted her. She tried and tried to let it go and told herself over and over that Lexa was just upset, that’s all, but intuitively she knew there was more.

Clarke tried not to dwell on the missed opportunity of the morning. Titus had come in at the most inappropriate of times. She wasn’t sure if she would have shown Lexa her drawing, but given the fact that Lexa had seen it, she wanted to offer something more than a look that could be interpreted any number of ways. But, could she bring herself to Lexa’s door and initiate the conversation? Was she ready? 

A part of Clarke desperately longed for more intimacy as well as Lexa’s touch, but she didn’t know if she was ready to give herself and her body in such a vulnerable way. Lexa undoubtedly had a power over her, one like no one ever had before. No one. Once they go there, truly go there, and Clarke offered the last part of herself she had been consciously holding close, there would be no going back. It was one thing to give pleasure to Lexa and it would be another entirely to allow Lexa to have unrestricted intimate access to her mind, body and heart. 

The light inside Lexa’s room grew brighter. Clarke saw a lithe frame moving about gracefully. A hunger grew so strong within her she jumped to her feet. She was halted only by a voice inside her head that warned, “Be careful!” She closed her eyes slowly, sat back down, and thought about how earlier that day she was taken aback by Lexa thinking the ghost of the Commanders before her had spoke to her in a dream yet here she was about to have a mindful conversation about vulnerability with the imaginary, but legendary Wanheda. 

Three

Niylah

Niylah awoke to the sound of laughter. It didn’t alarm her one bit, in fact it sounded familiar. She opened her eyes slowly and looked about. It had grown dark while she had slept. Seeing where or who from which the laughter came was nearly impossible. Fortunately, she was prepared and reached for her bag. 

The instant the candle was alit, Niylah saw movement in her peripheral. She should have been alarmed, but wasn’t. How could this be she asked herself? Rising slowly from her feather bed, she stood tall and extended an arm. Her reach changed the lighting just enough to allow the image of a flame to bounce off the eye of what appeared to be a messy haired and obviously curious little girl. 

Without hesitation, Niylah whispered softly and slowly. “Hi, I’m Niylah. What’s your name?”

The little girl smiled widely, but didn’t answer. She looked to her left instead. She appeared to be seeking permission.

Niylah looked to the little girls left as well. There, just outside the candlelight’s reach was the most beautiful woman she’d ever seen. Shadows fell all around this magnificent creature and yet Niylah could still tell she was someone from another realm; someone of Goddess lineage; someone she felt she had met before, but couldn’t remember when or where. Perhaps in a dream or a memory from childhood? She settled on the latter and tried to connect the similarities between the otherworldly Empress before her and her Mother’s mysterious friend. There were some, but not many. It was very clear this woman was not entirely human.

It was as if time slowed. Niylah could almost hear it braking. Time; she could literally hear time, or what she thought time might sound like. She could only describe it in a tactile sense. It was like fog, thick and miasmatic. The kind of mist so dense it turned to ice when it touched frozen ground. She stood speechless in the slowing as the Goddess nodded toward the little girl who enthusiastically turned time back to its normal pace. “I’m Tahneysa,” she blurted then lowered her eyes and shifted on her feet with an absolutely adorable display of curiosity. 

Niylah, still felt no fear; in fact what she felt was the opposite of fear. She felt brave and powerful like she was in her rightful place. Like she was with her people, once again, even though they weren’t her people. She fell to her knees and said, “Well hello, Tahneysa. It’s very nice to meet you.“

Tahneysa giggled and smiled an electric smile. The gorgeous woman moved closer and placed her hands on her shoulders. Tahneysa seemed to relish in the sensation. She looked up and held the woman’s gaze, providing Niylah with a chance to take in the rest of her features. She guessed she was about six years old. She had brown eyes and wild messy brown curly hair that was obviously so unruly that no one bothered trying to tame it. She had full lips and a small chin; she was small boned as well, with tiny wrists and a petite frame. At the same time, she appeared athletic. Niylah imagined her running like a dear and climbing like a feral cat. 

Niylah’s then let her eyes fall upon the woman’s hands. Her core alit with energy as vibrations ran up and down her spine. She rose to her feet and regained eye contact with the woman before her, feeling somewhat abashed by the desire surging through her. She waited for the woman to speak. With time moving as slowly as it was, she had what felt like unlimited access to examine every aspect of the creature before her. She took in everything she could; her long thick straight auburn hair, her hazel eyes and the way they sparkled with flecks of amber, even in the dimmest of light; her tone arms and arced collar bones, her highly defined features and slightly arched eyebrows, her full red lips and perfect skin, her fit and curvaceous frame. She was beyond beautiful. The vibrations within Niylah grew in both pitch and frequency. She swallowed hard. What was happening? Was she falling under a spell? She grounded herself quickly and realized she needed to apologize for intruding upon their space. She opened her mouth to speak, but was cut off.

“It’s okay, you’re welcome here.” 

Niylah felt week. Had her mind been read? She worried she may faint. The woman’s voice was so sensual and so soothing it seemed to penetrate her very essence. Her id screamed for attention.

“It’s okay, Dear One. Please sit,” the woman husked and made a motion with her hand toward one of the large stones next to the fire. “I will make you a tea. Please, have a seat,” she repeated with the same alluring assertiveness and hand gesture.

Niylah did as directed and watched as the woman before her set to fixing. Tahneysa went with, but didn’t stay long. Within seconds she was at Niylah’s side toting the goatskin drum from the shelf. 

“Do you play?” Niylah whispered smiling. She couldn’t help notice the way the eyes of the little girl lit up. She appeared to be ancient and wise, all at once. She was so striking. Her eyes were soft, yet fierce. She was young and ancient. She seemed wounded, but Niylah couldn’t quite pinpoint exactly where or how. She seemed joyous and resilient. She was a mixture of extremes. 

Tahneysa nodded and played a few beats, then looked to the woman for permission to continue. Niylah wondered if she were her daughter. She felt compelled to ask, but didn’t. She hadn’t even asked the woman her name, yet. And she couldn’t tell whether the woman could read her mind or not, though she felt brave and safe enough to test waters. She inquired telepathically. The woman turned around and made eye contact, but did not answer. This lead Niylah to believe she could read energy, not thoughts. And, apparently Tahneysa could as well for she immediately put skin to skin. 

The rhythm Lil T, a nickname Niylah instantly formed in her mind, offered was hypnotic. Niylah felt more and more relaxed with ever downbeat. It was as if the cadence were taking over her psyche, lulling her in and pulling her down. She understood the timing of it completely. It was an ancient song she hadn’t heard in this lifetime yet, but knew it well from so many before. The vibration left her spine and spread throughout her entire body. She drifted off and only returned when the memorizing hazel-eyed woman placed a hand on her shoulder and offered a steaming mug. 

Niylah accepted the tea and for one brief second their fingers touched. The contact sparked a fire like no other. Niylah could have sworn she saw a flash of lavender light bounce from the place where their hands had touched. She opened her mouth to speak, but then thought better of it. What if words ruined the moment? They didn’t seem enough somehow, or capable of such beauty.

The woman looked into Niylah’s eyes softly, as if understanding, quite possibly agreeing. She whispered, “I’m Damartrea. We’ve been expecting you.”

“You have?” Niylah asked curiously, the sensual tone in her own response offering up an element of surprise. It was her voice, she knew it, but it didn’t sound like her. How could that be, she wondered? Who were she in this moment, if not herself?

“I knew your mother well,” Dameartrea said pulling Niylah from her thought.

“You did?” she responded with tears welling in her eyes.

“Yes, though Jahdi and your mother were far more connected than she and I were.”

“Jahdi?”

“Jahdi,” Damartrea said waving a hand toward the darkest area of the cave.

Niylah squinted her eyes and searched the shadows. She could just make out the silhouette of a woman she took to be an elder, though it was only her body that appeared to be elderly, nothing else.

Jadhe smiled at Niylah and slowly approached; her bright eyes reflecting firelight; her small frame showing strength and grace; her energy field shining bright and reaching into every crack and crevice. She was an older version of her Mother’s mysterious friend, but it couldn’t be possible that she was the same person. Still, the markings on their bodies were similar. She was adorned with symbols and maps, geography, topography, astrological patterns and designs. All were artfully placed. She was stunning, to say the very least. And yet her physical beauty paled in comparison to the wisdom that so clearly emanated off her being. Niylah knew before Jadhi reached her seat that she was in the company of some version of the Triple Goddess. 

Damartrea gracefully lifted to her feet and poured two more cups, inviting Tahneysia to join them. The little girl smiled widely, making it obvious she appreciated the invitation. She put the drum back on the table reverently, sipped slowly and kicked her dangling feet about occasionally, reminding the other three of her youthful brilliance.

All drank in silence. Niylah felt so welcome, so at peace. She’d found the place from which she came. But, was this possible? Could she have been born here, she wondered? She knew so little about her birth. She had so many questions, but didn’t know how to ask any. Yet, it was as if her need, her absolute need, to have her questions answered had no power. It was a need without pain, need without urgency, need without grasping. She was fulfilled with the unknowing. She trusted the answers would come, when she truly needed them; Goddess wisdom would be shared.

Niylah felt the warmth of the beverage spread throughout her body. Her mind drifted back in time to memories of her Mother and the next thing she knew, she was in her bed awakening, as if it were all a dream. It was morning now and birds of first light sang their songs. Niylah looked up and realized everything was different; not only was the sky bluer, her skin felt softer, and the air seemed clearer, in fact her lungs were energized with every breath. Her hunger was stronger than ever, as well. She lifted herself slowly and padded toward the center. The fire was still burning and there was a pot of mixed berry and grain porridge warming on coals. A clay teakettle was there as well. It was steaming and by its side was a mug identical to the one she had sipped from the night before. She instantly wished there were four instead of one. She knew Damartrea, Tahneysa and Jahdi were real. She wondered if they would visit her again in her sleep and thought of returning to her bed simply to find out. Then she realized she might be able to call them into a sacred circle instead. She opted to eat and drink before making any decision. Her main reason for being there was to take her first journey to the Other World, though she couldn’t help but wonder if she hadn’t already. The Other World didn’t look like she thought it would, but nothing could be ruled out at this point. Nothing.

Now

Lexa

Lexa forced herself to ground. Emotions were getting the best of her and tears had already charged upward and demanded release. If she didn’t pull herself together now, she had no idea what emotion would follow. She needed to center, if not for herself at least for Clarke. This could very well be the last time they shared intimacy and she wanted it to be everything she dreamed of and more. She wanted it to be special and she wanted Clarke to feel the full measure of the love and desire she felt for her. 

As Lexa pulled Clarke to the edge of bed she looked deeply into her eyes for permission to proceed. Clarke’s words “Maybe someday we will owe nothing more to our people,” resounding in her head. 

Once consent was granted, Lexa reached up and grabbed the back of Clarke’s neck drawing her forward at the exact same moment Clarke pushed her back. All space between them disappeared, every molecule of air was gone. Instantly, their mouths found each other. Clarke’s tongue clearly spelling out what she wanted; what she needed; her hunger. Lexa knowing she was more than capable of meeting her needs, surrendered to the moment entirely. 

The way their bodies fit together overwhelmed Lexa’s senses. She felt intoxicated over how the curvaceous blonde wasn’t afraid to bear down and take the lead, but she wasn’t interested in what Clarke had to offer as much as she was interested in what Clarke was wiling to receive. 

Making love to Clarke was something Lexa had wanted to experience since their first kiss. Then, like now, she would have given anything to lay hands on Clarke’s naked flesh, suckle her beautiful breasts, lap wetness from her swollen cunt, hold her as she convulsed with sweet release and caress her as she slept. Finally, here she was able to confidently put vigor into her touch. Up until this very moment, she purposefully kept all physical contact light, tentative, and honorable, never putting pressure on Clarke, always letting her lead. 

Lexa moved with purpose and wove her long lean fingers into Clarke’s wavy tresses, grazing her scalp with one hand while wrapping the other tightly around her lover’s small waist, taking pleasure in the hungry sounds of desire escaping the blondes mouth and finding refuge in her own. She took pleasure in the weight of Clarke’s body pressed upon hers and the growing heat between them. She savored each kiss, every sound of approval and all encouragement. She delighted in the taste of Clarke tongue and the way it moved around utterly seductively, playfully, assertively and instinctively.

The second Lexa felt Clarke kick off her boots, she did the same with her own. The two wriggled about, their movements creating friction and adding additional heat and pressure at their cores. 

Once unshod, Lexa assisted the blue eyed Goddess in removing more of her clothing by pulling at the hem of her shirt. She felt an incredible sense of emptiness when Clarke broke their kiss to assist, yet seized the opportunity to position them in such a way that Clarke was forced to stand at the side of the bed while Lexa sat before her, never breaking physical contact.

The second Clarke’s arms were above her head, Lexa reached around and unlatched her bra sliding it down her lovers arm the instant they were free. She took in the view of the most gorgeous full breasts she had ever seen. The look on her face must have spoke volumes for she was met with a wicked smile and twinkle in Clarke’s eyes like she had never seen before. Clearly, Clarke was aware of how beautiful her body was and the power she had. Wetness seeped from Lexa’s body in response and she surrendered to her desire in full; she was beyond aroused, she was besieged.

With the strength and grace of a warrioress, Lexa reached for Clarke’s pants button and unfastened it with one quick move, after which she assertively unzipped the fly, looking up and locking eyes with her lover as she did. Lexa then inched the material downward, making sure to include Clarke’s underwear on the descent. 

The way Clarke took over and stepped free of the fabric caused a shudder to run down her spine. For the first time, Lexa had a second of self-doubt, something that was completely unlike her. She couldn’t help but wonder if she’d met her sexual match. She decided in that moment, even though they had precious little time to spare, to let her glance linger and memorize every inch of Clarke’s body. The way Clarke stood reminded of the night she was sworn in as Ambassador, the sheer beauty of her curves, the way her arms fell at her sides like artwork, the tonality of her shoulders, the confidence of her stance, all captivating, all consuming, all Clarke.

Lexa was not surprised when the blonde forced a knee between her legs and hastily tore at her shirt and bra. Once Clarke removed both, she dropped down and went for the clasp on Lexa’s pants. Seeing Clarke on her knees before her, her full wet slightly parted lips only inches from her crotch caused Lexa’s breathe to hinge. Her gasp was so audial that Clarke’s reaction smile made her blush. 

There was literally no place on earth Lexa would rather be. And as more wetness seeped from her now exposed cunt, she leaned back and let the blonde Goddess tear the last piece of material that divided them away from her ankles and toes. When Clarke stood and cupped Lexa's face with both hands and pushed her backward onto the bed then back crawled them to the center, Lexa felt a part of herself fall deeper.

Moments later, Lexa swore fealty to Clarke all over again. She wasn’t sure if she was doing this with her inside voice or her outside, only that the words and thoughts fell between gasps and hungry lustful kisses; all she knew was the vows were spoken or intended once again and in a way Clarke clearly understood, for it was she now who shed tears, tears of which Lexa simply could not bear. With every ounce of her being she wanted to make a case for why Clarke should stay, but she stopped herself. Just like she stopped herself from telling Clarke she loved her. She had to let Clarke go, she knew this. But she would not let her go without showing her how much she meant to her.

Knowing they had precious little time, Lexa paid close attention to Clarke’s wetness and the speed at which she was now sliding up and down her thigh. Clarke was working up to a deeper and more intricate form of intimacy and Lexa was fully invested. The heat between them was palpable, the salty taste of Clarke’s tears heartbreaking, and the energy between them caused convulsions of pleasure. 

The second Clarke broke their kiss and moved her mouth to Lexa’s neck, Lexa reacted with animalistic instinct and allowed her primal self to take over. Without warning or hardly an ounce of effort, she flipped Clarke onto her back and took control. A day didn’t go by when she didn’t fantasize about tasting her, teasing her, moving inside her, making her scream out in pleasure, satiating her, inundating her senses and loving with every ounce of her being.

Lexa, was beyond grateful when Clarke immediately relaxed beneath her and showed her deference by spreading her legs wide. She didn’t think Clarke would submit so easily and shuddered with delight. Her quiver must have reverberated throughout Clarke body because it was followed by a long slow guttural moan from the blonde that seemed to have been made of the earth itself. It was a sound so beautiful; it reignited something in Lexa she hadn’t felt in years.

Breaking free from the kiss, Lexa moved her attention to Clarke’s chin. Clarke’s chin had driven Lexa mad from the moment she realized she was attracted to her. Everything about Clarke was beautiful, but her chin, well her chin in Lexa’s mind was at the top of the list. She kissed it lightly and felt herself smile, like she’d just accomplished something monumental. She then saw Clarke mouth shape itself into a devilish grin, which caused her to smile even larger. 

“That’s the first time I’ve ever seen you truly smile, “ Clarke husked, a bit breathless. 

Lexa knew her words were true. She rarely if ever smiled, unless Clarke was around. She knew this, and others did as well, especially Titus. She knew something else, also. Clarke made her smile all sorts of different kinds of smiles. There was the slight smile that indicated they were connected in a way only they understood; there was the sarcastic smirk she offered when Clarke pushed boundaries, there was the endearing sheepish grin she made apparent when Aden spoke to Clarke of loyalty, and there was the nervous smile from earlier that afternoon when she asked Clarke to stay in Polis.

The smile Lexa gave Clarke now, the one Clarke commented on, was something else entirely. She knew where it was coming from and hoped Clarke knew as well. It was a smile inspired by Cupid’s greatest accomplishment of all, love. 

Unable to say the words, only because Lexa knew Clarke didn’t need to carry them into battle, Lexa leaned in for one more chin kiss before making her way toward Clarke’s ear. She quickly discovered how much Clarke liked being kissed and nipped at in such a tender area. The sound of Clarke’s raspy reaction to each and every graze caused another flood of wetness to spill from her throbbing cunt. And when she felt Clarke’s nails dig in deep and the urgency with which her pelvic thrusts sought contact, Lexa knew she could no longer take her time, like she wanted. 

Reaching back to gather her hair in one hand, Lexa slowly moved from Clarke’s neck to her collarbone then down to her breast. She felt light headed at how absolutely beautiful the blonde’s breast were. They were larger than any she’d had ever laid hands or mouth on before and they reminded her of the fine pieces of porcelain she’d seen as a child. She felt blessed by the opportunity to touch something so beautiful and precious.

The second Lexa wrapped her full lips around Clarke’s erect nipple she felt at home, like she’d done it before, a thousand times before, but in another lifetime. She had never had such a thought inspired by sensation and wondered if it was what people referred to as déjà vu. 

The sound of Clarke’s reaction and her horse voice broadcasting consent sounded metaphysically familiar as well. The way she moved air from her core though her diaphragm and transformed it to husky whimper sent shock waves through Lexa’s body; waves that went right to her swollen cunt and made themselves at home. She knew, in that very instant, that she would come without even being touched; not only that, she would come hard. That’s how incredible Clarke’s sexual pleasure sounded to her ears. 

Clarke’s husky rasp emboldened Lexa in other ways as well. Her goal becomes a primal need to coax more “yesses” and airy gasps from her lover. She suckled hard and listened in absolute bewilderment. Every note of encouragement bolted directly to her clit and bit down hard. The faster and harder she suckled the more Clarke reacted, and the more Clarke reacted, the more Lexa shook with pleasure. It wasn’t only Clarke’s voice that was driving her mad, it was the way she bucked and scratched and gripped her biceps with such force, Lexa felt she had to hold on. By the time Clarke screamed, “Lexa please, her own release hit her full on. 

In absolute ecstasy, Lexa moved her mouth from Clarke’s full breast to her tone stomach. She couldn’t help but run her long lean fingers along the sides of Clarke’s ribs and hips as her mouth worked its magic. She did this to memorize the hourglass shape of Clarke’s figure in order to hold this image in her minds eye throughout eternity. 

Lexa was careful not to tickle her lover and was intent to please. She kissed Clarke’s stomach hard and ran the flat of her tongue down the entire center, tracing the outline of her belly bottom and finding it surprisingly deep; so deep in fact she couldn’t stop herself from tongue fucking it a few times before Clarke moaned in appreciation or anticipation or frustration. She couldn’t be sure which emotion was being made known, but realized she should tease no more. She quickly lowered her mouth to Clarke’s nub; a nub that was surprisingly easy to find. It was quite large as clits go and way up front rather than hidden below. And, Clarke was already so swollen it would have been impossible to miss. It was literally standing at attention and begging for devotion. 

Lexa didn’t waste time on tentative swipes, she simply took Clarke into her mouth and immediately suckled with the same precision and expertise she had worshiped Clarke’s nipple with only a moment earlier. The combination of Clarke’s earthy scent and taste and the moan of approval she offered caused her own sex to pulsate once again. As she steadied Clarke, who was now thrashing about, Lexa continue on with a slow subtle release, her vocal cords echoing every sound Clarke made. 

Moving her attention to Clarke’s folds, Lexa suckled both into her mouth at once and tugged gently yet forcefully, stretching them to their full length. She felt the soft flesh between her lips then grazed it lightly with her teeth and teasingly with the tip of her tongue then released. Repeating the same motion several time, Lexa took pride in the way Clarke’s voice grew louder. The blonde bucked and seemed to have trouble breathing, then caught her breath and moaned Lexa’s name several times in a row, louder each time, holding the L for a noticeable amount of time. 

Lexa didn’t need Clarke’s firm grasp on her forearms to tell her she was coming, she could taste it and feel Clarke’s hot fluids sliding down her chin. Not wanting Clarke to come too hard too fast, she gently backed off. She wanted her lover to experience multiple orgasms so she lightened the pressure and was pleased to hear Clarke’s “yes” approval. She lightly let go of Clarke’s folds and gently returned her attention to the tip of her clit, lapping methodically with tip of her tongue. This caused both a shudder and a soft moan and Lexa knew she was on the right track. 

Wanting to take Clarke higher, but slower, Lexa wanted to know how. They hadn’t time for experimentation, a fact she was painfully aware of. With this in mind, she gently pulled one of her arms from Clarke’s grasp and moved it down to spread Clark’s legs even wider, fluids once again escaping her own body as she did. Clarke’s moan of approval fueled her ambition. She then curled that same hand around Clarke’s hipbone and brought the other to her breast, squeezing the nipple assertively once before making her way to Clarke’s mouth. Tracing her fingers over Clarke’s lips, she hoped Clarke would take one into her mouth and teach her with her own tongue what she liked most.

As one would imagine Clarke did not disappoint. She inhaled Lexa’s finger and used her hot wet tongue to circle around the tip of Lexa’s middle finger while Lexa repeated the same ministration below. The dynamic was so tantalizing that she struggled to catch her breath between moans yet made a point to time hers around Clarkes as to not drown her out. Hearing Clarke come was as glorious sound as she’d ever heard, one she’d spent the rest of her life trying to repeat the performance over and over again.

Clarke started another release, this time pleading for more. Her exact words were, “Lexa! Lexa I need you in….. inside of me.. “

Lexa immediately moved her hand from Clarkes hip and snuck it underneath. She took a second to lubricate her fingers in Clarke’s juices, which were so plentiful she could literally push them around liberally, and made sure that every entrance was ready for penetration, should another request be made. The instant Lexa reached the lowest ingress, Clarke’s hips bucked off the bed and she let out a moan of pleasure that bounced off the walls. Lexa found the answer to her earlier question. She had indeed met her sexual match. She would give Clarke whatever Clarke wanted and do so without hesitation or judgment. However Clarke asked to be fucked, she would agree. Whatever need Clarke had, Lexa would meet it.

Head swimming with the sound of Clarke’s rasping laments, breath hinged with her own desire and Clarke’s abundant need, Lexa slowly entered her lover, suckling her clit lightly as she did. Approval was easily understood. Not only did she hear a loud and throaty “yes,” she was gifted with wider spread legs and deeper access.

Lexa took full advantage of the length of her digits and moved in and out of her lover gently. She wanted Clarke’s body acclimate to the sensation before increasing speed and force. 

Knowing she could reach in deep, Lexa did. Within seconds she felt Clarke’s muscles relax and pelvis lift to meet each thrust and she knew this was the perfect time to add another finger. Clarke’s raspy approval and hard buck nearly broke the contact between her mouth and Clarke’s nub, but she held on and suckled harder while stroking the entire length of her digits, in and out, in and out, slowly, in and out, in and out, then picked up speed, in and out again and deeper in, and deeper in some more.

Relying on her senses, Lexa felt for the exact moment when the time was right to add a third finger. The second she did, Clarke stopped sucking her middle finger and took three fingers into her mouth and bit down, not ferociously, but quite seductively. Another wave hit Lexa and the two women were coming again.

Increasing speed, Lexa pushed hard into Clarke. She tried to keep contact with her mouth, but Clarke was now bucking like a wild horse. Lexa quickly understood that what she wanted now was to be fucked with just fingers. The force with which her hips thrust also indicated she wanted to be fucked hard. There was no more need for oral, just penetration. And with each thrust Lexa offered, Clarke responded with a raspy whimper that rang more of satiation than it did need. The tonality had changed; instead of desperation in the sound of her laments, there was a timbre of contentment.

Pleasing Clarke was all Lexa ever wanted to do and here she was between her legs in a prayer like position, worshiping the woman’s swollen cunt, a pink and red opening so beautiful and spread so wide it reminded her of a butterfly. In her youth, Lexa had read about heaven, but never really bought it until now. Seeing Clarke like this, this was heaven; her heaven.

Clarke’s voice grew louder and louder as Lexa stroked her long fingers in and out. She knew Clarke was approaching her final wave, so she stoked faster and harder, curling her fingers when the time seemed right and spreading them wide when the moment allowed. Tears slid down her face as Clarke told her how hard she was coming and how good it felt and how amazing she was. Their eyes met and held each other in a moment that could never be more perfect.

The second Clarke used both hands to grab ahold of Lexa’s arm, she knew to sill and let the gorgeous blonde ride out the final climax in her own time and her own way, which of course Clarke did beautifully. Eyes never parted, the look they shared was of utter adoration. 

Both women stayed still until Clarke reached up and pulled Lexa on top of her and into a kiss that Lexa would never forget. Never. 

This kiss was unlike any other that came before. There was something new and different in it, something more than just Lexa’s love for Clarke. Perhaps it included Clarke’s love as well? Lexa wondered if this was how Clarke wanted to acknowledge it. The kiss had the most amazing amount of tenderness she’d ever seen from Clarke. Maybe, this was the safest way for her to speak a truth, she couldn’t know for sure, but hoped. 

Lexa knew that as soon as this kiss ended, Clarke would say she needed to leave, the thought of which made her instantly grieve a sadness quite similar to the pain she felt when Costia was murdered. She stopped herself from pulling away and pleading with Clarke to stay, but the sadness became overwhelming and more tears threaten to surface. She didn’t want to cry again. She and Clarke had just made the most amazing love and she wanted the feeling of warmth and joy to be their last memory, so she did the one thing she knew would stop the tears and gently broke their kiss, playing it off like she wanted to be spooned. If she couldn’t look into Clarke’s eyes, she could keep it together at least one minute more.

The look on Clarke’s face was one of understanding, but knowing. She had seen right through and Lexa knew it. Still she let Lexa turn away and showed her companion by running her fingers up and down Lexa's tattoo, keeping the sensation of their kiss alive and well, allowing a modicum of joy to linger. 

Clexa

Clarke 

In one swift move, Clark grabbed the gun from the floor and shoved it into Titus’s temple. “Put her down or I will kill you,” she hissed in a voice sounding nothing like her own. 

Titus, gently returned Lexa’s limp body to the bed then turned around slowly and faced Clarke, who instinctively backed out of arms reach. 

From a few feet away, Clarke kept the gun pointed at Titus’s face and contemplated options. Her nostrils flared, her breathing was ragged, she tasted blood on her lips, blood that was all over her hands; blood that was not her own, blood that was her lover’s.

Rage boiled within Clarke. She surrendered to it completely, allowing Wanheda to take the lead. She was no longer in charge, the Commander of Death was.

“Hand me the technology,” she spat. “NOW!”

“Clarke you don’t know what you’re doing,” Titus pleaded.

“Yes, I do!” Clarke fired back with sheer venom.

“She’s in there right, that chip, Lexa’s in there?” Clarke demanded an answer. 

“Yes,” Titus said nodding, color running from his face, visibly shaken.

Gun still pointed directly at Titus face, Clarke took two more steps backward and with her free untied Murphy.

“Leave us!” she commanded and was pleased when he did as instructed. She cared nothing of what became of him or her people any longer, her focus was on Lexa and the technology in Titus’s hands. Nothing more.

“Hand it to me,” Clarke demanded again, stepping toward Titus again, gun still threatening, eyes wild like that of a wounded animal.

Titus did as directed, but pleaded once again, “Clarke it can’t be like this, you must allow our process to take place. It is her rightful place to”

Clarke snatched the satchel from his hands and cut him off completely. “Her rightful place, you stupid man, you stole that from her the instant you attacked me! She’s gone because of you! Her rightful place will not be honored because of you!”

Clarke felt an uncontrollable heat surge through her veins. She knew Wanheda was dangerously close to losing control. Titus could not die yet, he was too valuable, she heard the Queen of Death warn. 

“Clarke, you must know that this is her fate and the fate of the, “The Flame. The paintings will explain. Let me show you. They will help you see what must be done; please let me teach you our way.”

Clarke considered Titus’s words. It was true. She needed to understand what was happening, but she was in shock. Her heart was racing; her blood was on fire and her skin was cold and clammy. She was starting to shake and holding a steady aim was becoming a chore. If she didn’t pull it together soon, she would likely shut down. She knew this. She forced herself to steady and collected her energy, grounding herself.

“Paintings? What paintings? Where are these paintings?” she pressed, thinking they were in a book somewhere in Lexa's chamber.

Titus explained that they were on a wall on the lower level of Polis’s west end. 

Clarke contemplated options again. After a while she agreed to go there, but they would stop first at the place where the Night Bloods studied. She knew Aden would be there and she would enlist his help. 

Titus looked relieved and Clarke made it clear that he would make no sounds nor indicate to anyone he was her prisoner or she would kill him on the spot, fearing none of what the consequences would be.

Titus nodded. He could see how serious Clarke was and knew she had nothing left to lose. Literally nothing, which made her more dangerous than the weapon in her hand. He knew she would make good on her promise, if he went against her in any way. He would not cross her, besides he’d promised Heda. He would never cross the Queen of Death ever again.

Clarke took a moment and reverently covered Lexa’s body, hiding it from view, before she and Titus left to retrieve Aden; the assassin in the front, she behind, fully prepared to pull the trigger, hungry for the opportunity to obtain revenge.

Once Clarke had Titus and Aden in a place where she could speak freely to one while holding the other captive, she prepared the young warrior for what she feared would be his first major blow. 

Aden, appeared deeply saddened by the news, yet processed it immediately. It occurred to Clarke that Lexa had prepared him for any fatality and that it could come at anytime and in any shape or form. No matter what the situation, Aden was ready to lead, Lexa, as his Heda, made sure of this.

The young warrior glared at Titus with the same level of disdain Clarke did. Without question or hesitation he agreed to find a way to bring Lexa’s body to the place where the painting were and would do so without seeking help from anyone. “No one.” Clarke repeated “NO ONE!” could know.

Clarke watched as the tiny boy disappeared from her site. She marveled at all he seemed capable of, especially given his youth. He was just like Lexa she thought and knew he would bring Heda's body to them without alerting another soul. She absolutely trusted her gut on this one. A maternal sense rushed through her veins and she wondered if this was how Lexa felt about him as well. She assumed their feelings were the same, the sensation of which tore at her soul. Tears streamed down freely now, she could hold them back no longer. She loved the way Lexa understood her and the way they shared so many of the same thoughts.

Wanheda allowed space for Clarke to grieve, but not for long. After only a short time, she shut down Clarke’s capacity to feel, however, and made compartmentalization of emotions possible. She took over once again, though compartmentalizing came naturally to Clarke.

With Wanheda’s help, Clarke regained focus and leaned on the strength the Queen of Death provided. Within minutes she and Titus stood before the paintings he assured would help her understand. Fortunately for Clarke, she knew the story of Polaris and instantly recognized it. Pieces about The Flame were starting to make sense. She grew up knowing Becka’s story pre launch and now she knew what happened post. With this information she began to formulate a plan.

For nearly an hour Wanheda rifle-fired question after question at Titus. The moment he disclosed the left over syringes of Night Blood, Clarke found hope.

Aden arrived while Clarke was calculating dosages. He had beautifully wrapped his Heda in the softest of furs and placed her on a large cart underneath a beautiful display of staffs and flags from the Ascension Ceremony. No one would ever have suspected her body was below. 

It was obvious to Clarke that Aden had shed many tears in the time they were apart. It must have been hard for him to see Heda’s lifeless body though. With motherly instinct, Clare reached out and touched his shoulder lightly. He welcomed her affection, in a warrior’s way. He didn’t linger long before standing at attention again, as if awaiting a command.

Relax Aden, Clarke whispered, I am not in charge here. 

Aden looked confused, “But you are; you are the Legendary Wanheda. Heda has told me many great things about your strength and wisdom. And, I assume it is you who will be the Flame Keeper now, given Titus can no longer be entrusted with the responsibility. If this is true, you are now my teacher AND you are my commander.” 

Clarke remembered that Lexa taught Aden that Sky People were his people too. She also realized the young boy knew far more about Heda/Lexa’s history than she did. She wasn’t ready to tell him that it was he who would the next commander, but she did sit him down on a bench near Polaris to ask him question after question about The Flame and Grounder spirituality, well more specifically, Lexa’s beliefs in spirituality and her teaching around reincarnation. 

After Clarke extracted every bit of information she needed from young Aden, she had him analyze every single painting, from his perspective. She took in every word and fine-tuned her plan. Unfortunately, there were things that Aden didn’t know, and gaps Clarke would have liked filled, but didn’t trust Titus to fill them. It wasn’t worth the risk. Bad information could be deadly. She would leap “on a wing and a prayer,” like her father used to say. 

By nightfall, Clarke found herself with both “The Flame and a vial of Night Blood in her hands. By now both she and Wanheda were on the same page. “It can’t be this easy,” she said inwardly. “It just can’t be this easy,” she repeated. The last time she said these words; she burned 300 grounders alive in a ring of fire.

Clarke directed Aden to a part of the room where Titus couldn’t hear. He looked bewildered when she told him what she was about to do, but he did not question or dissuade. He simply stood by respectfully, at the ready, as Clarke injected the first dosage into her veins. Aden watched with the same kind of loyalty and concern Lexa would have. Clarke felt touched. 

Both Clarke and Aden were relieved that the Night Blood seemed compatible with her system. There were no violent reactions, no nausea, no blurring of senses. In fact within in an hour, Clarke felt stronger than she’d ever felt before. It was as if the air that entered her lungs was made up of pure oxygen. Her appetite returned as well. In response, she asked Aden to retrieve supplies for the three of them to travel to Arcadia, qualifying that they’d be transporting Lexa’s body and would need caloric fuel for them and the horses they would steal. 

Clarke was struck by how the food she ingested nourished her in such a profound way. She’d known Lexa to eat very little yet have more than enough energy for any situation. She’d also known Lexa to have incredible strength of body and mind, even when she hadn’t slept for days. She attributed her virility and stamina to the Night Blood they now shared. A fluid more powerful than her own bio engineered genetic material. 

The Flame was something else to consider entirely. Clarke has to believe there was more to it than just data storage. It had to contain both Lexa’s intellect and her emotions; it just had to, she was banking on it. 

It wasn’t difficult to convince Aden that she was fine and that her body was accepting the Night Blood with absolute grace. It showed on her face and in her stance. Clarke was literally growing stronger right before his eyes. He agreed to take the first sleep shift so that she could put together the maps and instructions she wanted him to have for their travels. She needed time to make a second set as well. They were instructions for Abby and Raven, should any part of her plan fail.

________________

By daybreak, Clarke, Aden and Titus had slipped from Polis undetected. They had three of Lexa’s finest horses and a small trailer for Heda herself. 

During the night Clarke snuck back into Lexa’s chambers and obtained her armor, which she herself now wore. She had been retraumatized by the residual death energy lingering in the room, but not the site of blood. Aden had hid any trace of Heda’s assassination. The longer they could go without anyone knowing, the better. 

Leading the way, Clarke felt as if Lexa’s arms were somehow woven into the fabric of Lexa’s armor, armor that now clung to her body in all the right ways. She felt as if she were being held upright and safe, and that Lexa was offering comfort and strength, taking the reins, guiding her turns, helping her find the perfect spot to execute her plan. She couldn’t describe this feeling or the location to Aden, all he knew was she’d know it when she saw it. 

Before the sun reached its highest peak, they were there. It was the most beautiful spot Clarke could imagine. It was near a waterfall and beside a glorious bluff. The current ran fast and the water was crystal clear and icy cold, so cold it could preserve Lexa’s body, and her own, if it came to this. 

Sighing, Clarke felt a sense of relief. If she were about to experience her last moments on earth, she wanted it to be here, with the sun shining down, the sound of the water and Lexa by her side.

Clarke was in no way suicidal, but the few months she had spent on earth had taught her very quickly that life was both fragile and temporary. Her time on the ship had taught her the same. If this were the end, she was ready. Like Lexa taught, leadership came with a price. The Commander of Death was about to either pay it, or be rewarded by it.

Titus and Aden placed Lexa's body with her head facing east, the direction of the village she was born, as Clarke instructed. She had learned about Lexa’s early years on their trip Arcadia. They had experienced a few moments of joy on that trip Clarke would never forget. Joy that happened before Pike committed genocide and started the events that led to Lexa’s death. Wanheda would never forgot this, nor let it go. Pike would pay the price for his brutality, Wanheda was sure of it.

Once Heda’s body was in place, Clarke placed the wildflowers she’d gathered in a large circle on the grass around Lexa’s lithe frame then handed a journal filled with maps and instructions to Aden. An incredible wave of grief course through her veins the instant he offered his hand in a Grounder style embrace. She took it, but she could not say the words. She just couldn’t. Instead, she nodded, like Heda always did and could tell by his expression that he understood.

Reverently entering the circle, Clarke dropped to her knees and faced the sky for a long time before mirroring her lover’s pose. With The Flame held firmly in one hand and Lexa’s long lean fingers in her other, she contemplated the juxtaposition. The technology exuded warmth and felt alive with energy; Lexa’s did not. Nothing emanated from her fingertips, no warmth, no energy, no residual spirit, nothing. It broke her heart, but she wouldn’t allow the pain to obliterate her hope. This was a risk she was willing to take; her plan was going to go one-way or another, she didn’t know which.

Tears charged from corners of her eyes, so Clarke closed them. She inhaled slowly, deeply, and reverently then placed The Flame on the tip of her tongue. The second she closed her mouth, the technology came alive. She had considered having Titus slice her neck open and implant The Flame for her, but couldn’t be vulnerable with him that way. It was easier to ingest it, and if that didn’t work, she would ask Aden to handle the scalpel. Fortunately, gestation was the right choice. She didn’t fight it when The Flames moved in her mouth and toward the back of her throat. She wasn’t tempted to spit it out. She wasn’t afraid. She simply let The Flame have its way and seek whatever it sought. 

Within seconds, warmth spread throughout Clarke’s body. Then came the lights. What started out with seven vertical orbs spinning clockwise and spiraling toward her quickly blurred together then expanding outward, eventually turning into a solid screen of red before her eyes. It reminded her of the time she was so tired hunting panthers she fell to the ground, landing flat on her back, eyes closing, face to the sun. She saw nothing but red then as well.

After several moments a small dot appeared in the middle of the screen. It seemed as if she was above it now, a thousand feet above it, in fact. Then the dot changed shape. It was she and she was the dot. She was seeing herself. As she descended colors and shapes become clear. The,, with a flash, she unified with herself and was standing in the middle of an amphitheater. 

Clarke felt the earth vibrating below her feet, or what she thought was the earth anyway, though this version of earth was far healthier than anything she’d known previously. This earth was pristine and alive with vibrant energy, energy so strong if pulsated all around her. 

Clarke couldn’t believe the beauty of the mountains surrounding her. The trees seemed alive, the small stream that trickled through the circle sparkled with light, the fire next to the alter, an alter that looked exactly like the one from her dream of Aden’s initiation, crackled like a drum. Everything was breathtakingly beautiful; so beautiful it brought tear to her eyes. 

Then there were the wildflowers. There were so many and so many different kinds and colors and shapes, Clarke knew she could spend a lifetime just learning their names. They were the valley floors, fragrant, swaying slightly in the wind, dancing. The smell was intoxicating and their sensuality healed her in ways she didn’t know she needed. She felt more alive and heightened in this moment than she had ever felt before. 

The sensation of Lexa’s hands sliding gently up her back and onto her shoulders should have surprised Clarke, but didn’t. She felt Lexa’s presence a millisecond before she felt her touch. 

Closing her eyes, Clarke wanted more than anything for this sensation and this experience to be real. She couldn’t take another loss and especially a loss that involved Lexa once again. She was too afraid to speak or turn, though she wanted more than anything to do both.

“I’m here.” Lexa whispered. Clarke wanted to burst a 180, but still couldn’t move. She feared her mind were laying tricks? 

When Lexa gently pulled Clarke backward, initiating physical contact between her wing bones and Lexa’s soft warm breasts, Clarke felt her paralysis lighten. When Lexa whispered, “It’s okay baby, I’m really here. This is real, we’re both really here,” Clarke broke free. Tears spilled down her face and fell from her jaw. She turned abruptly and intended on pulling Lexa into a full on embrace, but her knees gave and everything went dim.

Moments later, Clarke awoke to the sensation of Lexa’s finger tip lightly touching the indent smack dab in the middle of her chin then move lightly up and down the length of her jaw. Gaining consciousness, she realized her head was in Lexa’s lap and that Lexa was looking upon her with the most loving expression she had ever seen, which says a lot considering Lexa was particularly good at long loving glances of yearning.

Clarke couldn’t help but notice the lightness in Lexa’s eyes. She had always marveled at the way they changed colors. Sometimes they were gray, sometimes powder blue, sometimes green, but here, in this field of wildflowers and abundance, they were lighter than usual. Sage/silver, she decided. They were the color of sage/silver and breathtakingly gorgeous. 

Clarke lifted herself from Lexa’s lap, being steadied all the way. That’s when it really hit her. She could feel Lexa’s touch. In absolute elation, she reached out and cupped the side of her gorgeous lover's face. The warmth of her soft flesh and smooth skin amazed her. The consumption of The Flame had worked. She finally succeeded to pull Lexa into her arms and hold her in their first proper hug. 

Tears flowed from all all eyes and rolled down soft skin, intermingling, tasting of love and longing. It occurred to Clarke that she had found pure bliss. “Is this bliss?” she asked herself.

“A form of it, yes,” Lexa answered softly

Clarke shuddered. She was sure she had asked the question inwardly. 

Lexa answered again, softer this time. “We can communicate here without using our mouths.”

Clarke nodded, but asked that they speak. She wasn’t ready for telepathy, not yet. It was too much for her mind to process, plus she liked looking at Lexa’s mouth as it formed various shapes. It was a sensual pleasure she’d never tire of.

Clarke saw Lexa smirk and knew her last thought had been read – though it was hardly a secret that she was obsessed with Lexa's mouth. She had caught been caught staring at it many a times well before they’d shared their first kiss. 

Clarke wasn’t sure if it was the thought of them kissing that brought their lips together or whether she reached out to Lexa, or Lexa reached out to her, or they simultaneously sought each other and decided she didn't care. The initiation mattered little. However they got there, it was where she wanted to be. 

The sensation of Lexa’s mouth on hers sent shocks waves through her entire being. Their kiss was tender and nourishing, long and slow, loving and kind, just like the kisses they shared after making love a day earlier. 

Neither woman could let go of the other. Heat grew between them and something else. Something Clarke couldn’t identiy. She lingered in it, savored it, took it deep into her soul. And, the instant, Lexa pulled away, she felt empty. She lunged forward again feeling blessed by Lexa’s generous response. 

When Clarke’s need to devour Lexa’s mouth was finally satiated, she pulled away slightly, but refused to break contact, pressing their foreheads together for many long moments before carefully positioning herself behind Lexa so that they could, as a couple, look off into the same distance. Their fingers never untwined, nor did the gentle caresses cease. Each smiled from ear to ear, hearts full and free.

After a bit, Clarke noticed something on the horizon she hadn’t seen before, something coming into view with more and more clarity by the second. It was like a barrier was vanishing right before her eyes. 

“That’s home,” Lexa offered nodding in the direction Clarke stared. 

“Home?” Clarke responded playfully, heart leaping at the word and all it signified. She looked more closely and saw a quaint little cottage with candlelight flickering within. “Of course it is, it has you written all over it, Lexa,” she teased.

Lexa got the joke, and liked it, but didn’t add one of her own. In a very serious tone she rasped, “You’re welcome here anytime. There’s amazing light and plenty of things you might like to draw; the night sky is very different here. I’ve never seen anything like it, but you might have from space. I stared at it all night wondering if this was your view from the ship you grew up on.” 

Clarke loved hearing what Lexa said, but found it so painful. She considered Lexa’s words welcoming her to say and needed to know how long. How long could she stay for? She asked without vocalizing, hearing desperation in every syllable. 

“For as long as your attention span will allow,” Lexa replied, her voice cracking a bit, giving away emotion Clarke was sure she hadn’t intended.

Clarke refrained from saying it wasn’t enough; that she needed more; that she wanted to stay for eternity, if that’s where she’d find Lexa; that she would refuse to leave; that she would never go.

Lexa, held Clarke closer and Clarke knew her thoughts had once again been read. 

The two women sat in silence for quite some time, still caressing, swaying side to side, ever so slightly. It almost felt to Clarke like Lexa was lightly rocking her, but her intuition told her otherwise. Her intuition said she was comforting herself as much as she was offering comfort. It hit her flat, Lexa was struggling just as much as she was, maybe more, and of course she was, it was she who died at the hand of her teacher. 

Clarke held Lexa tighter, but Lexa pulled away gently and faced her. “Listen Clarke, there are some things I have learned since my arrival that I want you to know. The elders have given me permission to share these things with you, since you’re here and have surprised us all with your presence. They truly believe you are the GREAT Wanheda so they want you to know as much as I do. “

“So, you’re not angry with me for coming?” Clarke whispered searching Lexa’s face, caring little about what the elders Lexa mentioned thought, only about what Lexa thought.

“No,” Lexa whispering lovingly, “I know why you did it and I know your plan, well both of your plans actually.”

Clarke looked deeply into Lexa’s eyes. She should have felt exposed, but didn’t.”

“So, you know what I’m going to ask of you?”

Yes, Lexa whispered, a hint of sadness flashing across her face. “I do, Clarke, but I’m really not sure if it will work the way you’re thinking, not here anyway. Your backup plan is a much better option,” she added softly, caressing Clarke’s hand in her own, “but it’s a plan that scares me beyond words.”

Clarke took a moment to examine her plan more closely. If she survived Night Blood and the gestation of The Flame, she could move onto Plan A. Plan A involved finding Lexa and having her remove The Flame whilst with her in the other world, making it available to any and all of the Heda’s that came before her. It would be another spirit that returned to Clarke’s body, not her own. Clarke would stay with Lexa. Of course, this all hinged on whether The Flame was actually in her neck. Given that she and Lexa could touch, there was a slight chance this plan would succeed.

Plan B, went into effect if Clarke could not find Lexa in the otherworld. If this were the case she’d return to her body and travel with Aden, Titus and Lexa to Arcadia and convince Abby to flat-line her, remove The Flame whilst technically dead, then revive her afterward. The Flame would be given to Aden and he’d be Heda, just as Lexa wished. There was a risk with Plan B though and Clarke knew it. Convincing Abby to flat-line Clarke would be tricky at best, but she had to try. 

Lexa looked softly into Clarke’s eyes the entire time Clarke reexamined her plans. Clarke sensed Lexa's concern and had no words of comfort. Instead she pulled her lover in for another long leisurely kiss. The taste of honey on her lips, the tenderness, the softness of her caresses were amplified immeasurably. Clarke made up her mind, this was bliss and now she wanted to know every detail. She broke the kiss gently and whispered, “Tell me what I can do to stay here with you, how it can be like this always.”

Lexa looked crushed by the request. So much so Clarke’s couldn’t take it. It tore at her soul. All she could do in response was caress Lexa’s soft beautiful features. 

Lexa visibly pulled herself together and whispered, “Clarke, what I’m about to tell is a lot to process it. I wholeheartedly believe it, but I will understand if you need time to take it all in. 

Clarke nodded slowly, lips slightly parted, bracing herself.

Lexa looked deeply into her eyes and seemed to be waiting for the exact moment before whispering, “Clarke, this is not the first lifetime we’ve been lovers.”

Clarke sucked in her bottom lip and replayed Lexa’s sentence in her head twice over before nodding. Instinctively, she knew Lexa was right, though she could never have so easily accepted such a proclamation on earth, nor do so with such grace and ease. Ideas around reincarnation and soulmates were concepts far from her minds reach, though clearly they were quite logical in Lexa’s mind, due to her lifelong spiritual teachings.

Lexa searched Clarke’s face.

Clarke playfully raised an eyebrow in response. 

Lexa smiled at the display and offered a sheepish grin. 

Clarke wanted Lexa to read her mind as she imagined every detail and conjured an image of them growing old together in previous lives. Then it occurred to her that they had found each other again in this one and would find each other in many to come. Hands down, they were soulmates. 

Lexa seemed to see in her minds-eye every image Clarke conjured. Clarke could tell just by the look on her face that Lexa shared the same thoughts and desires. 

Gently she offered, “I think you’re right, Lexa. If I weren’t here with you right now, in this place of absolute beauty, after having watched you die less than twenty-four hours earlier, I might not believe it, but here and now, because of all of this, because I can touch you and love you so easily again, I do. I believe every word.”

The look that flashed through and over Lexa’s eyes and face were miraculous. Clarke could look into Lexa's eyes for a thousand lifetimes. When Lexa whispered there was one more thing, Clarke couldn’t imagine anything could compare, but remained open. She watched as Lexa’s lip quivered and her eyes welled with tears. Her voice cracked with emotional duress when she finally spoke. “It’s about Aden.”

“Aden?” Clarke inquired, surprised at the turn in conversation.

“Aden is connected to us as well, Clarke.”

Clarke felt her breath hinge and made a gesture encouraging Lexa to continue.

The brunet cleared her throat and spoke clearly, but softly, “Aden was our biological son in a past life.”

Clarke felt a flood of emotions run through her entire being. In her culture, conversations around children were political, not spiritual. On earth, everything was different. Spirituality was different. Silently, she took in the significance, caressing Lexa’s hands as she did, basking in the sensation, and relishing the idea of the them as parents, together.

Once again, the two young lovers returned to their comfortable silence. Both had so much to consider. Running through Clarke’s mind was the speech Lexa gave the night Wanheda spared Emerson’s life. How their new blood must not have blood policy would help to create a world where their children could live outside the shadows, free from fear.

Suddenly waves of sadness coursed through Clarke’s consciousness. She knew she had gained the power to read Lexa’s mind and that it was her grief she was taking on. 

Lexa was the one who had more time to process all she’d just shared with Clarke and Clarke knew what she wanted to ask, but wouldn’t ask out of sheer resect. It was just like Lexa to allow Clarke time to come to her own conclusions, in her own way. 

After a few minutes of wordless caresses, Clarke surrendered to the fact that she’d need to come up with a new plan. Though she didn’t need to ask, she did, “Will you help me figure this out in a way that I can still be with you and protect our son?”

Lexa nodded and showed obvious relief. Then she said something that blew Clarke’s mind. “I would be more than happy to help you formulate a plan, but I need it to include you having Titus carry by body 1.5 kilometers up stream as quickly as possible. Clarke felt her ears grow hot and knew her face had paled even though her spirit latched onto hope and energy coursed through her veins. Lexa continued softly, "There’s a Witch there and she will know what to do. She’s expecting me, well my body. She's expecting m body. The elders have just granted her a deeper level of insight, but please know it’s still a long shot, Clarke. Not all things that happen on earth are known here, so I can’t promise anything, which is why I want Titus to take me so that you won’t have to live through another emotional upset like before. I can promise you this though, Clarke cum Skaicru, if this necromancer can work her magic, I will do my best to breathe again.”

Clarke’s body shook with elation. Wanheda’s did as well. Stubbornly, she said, "Lexa, I will take you to her. I know now that I am truly both Clarke and Wanheda. I believe Wanheda will have a role to play."

Lexa pulled Clarke close, knowing she was right, proud of her for cleaning her birthright, and in a tone the blonde blue eyed Goddess had never heard before whispered, “Did you mean what you said earlier about loving me?”

Clarke pulled away quickly feeling quite surprised Lexa has to ask. With a soft glance and a gentle rasp she replied, “Yes, every bit of it. I wanted to tell you yesterday when you almost said it to me, but I knew it wasn’t the right time for either of us, so I held back - something I’ve regretted ever since. I love you, Lexa, I think I have loved you since before Mount Weather, but I knew for certain the morning I sketched you sleeping in your room. I am deeply and wholeheartedly in love with you.”

Lexa bit her bottom lip and inhaled slowly through her nose, her chest visibly rising, tears filling her eyes once again. It was a display of beauty that melted Clarke’s insides. The second she said, “I love you too, Clarke, so much it scares me, but in a way that doesn’t weaken me. The love I have for you is more powerful than anything imaginable,” Clarke knew they would find a way to stay together in this lifetime and all the next.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, I’m going to leave this story here. There are three options available to Clexa to have a happy ending and I encourage you to imagine any or all of them and take them to heart for comfort. 
> 
> I think I have done all I can do to right/write the wrongs of the careless writers of theLoo. Writers who didn’t take the time to consider what their words would do to us; writers who clearly don’t believe in historical trauma enough to save our youth from unnecessary heartache; writers who sought high ratings, regardless of who got hurt.
> 
> I haven’t watched an episode since 307 and am so glad I did. I realized in the weeks that followed 307 that the relationship between writers and fans has too much potential for abuse and I want none of it - no judgment to anyone who hasn’t left, we all have our reasons and needs. If you’re still tuned in though, please know what you see on the screen is not what always happens in real life. There are women like Lexa and Clarke in the real world who do live happily ever after and lead and accomplish amazing things. 
> 
> Love and peace to you all. 
> 
> Askait
> 
> Oh wait, one last thought. Guess who the powerful Witch is? It’s Niylah’s mother’s childhood friend. Later on, Niylah will find her and she will train with her and eventually she too will meet her soul-mate. Happily ever after for everyone.


End file.
